Back to Front
by Steffs
Summary: Sam takes Dean camping ?
1. Chapter 1

Back to Front

Heavy footfalls thudded on its leafy floor, twigs bent and broke under the pressure; they fractured, cracking sharply, unsettling the age-old living rhythm of its forest with unnatural disturbance. Further on the feet stopped their insurgence and breath, heavy and laboured, wheezed loudly in the ensuing quiet. There came a click, click, the grind of a twist cap, the slosh of liquid, swallowing, gulping and then the feet thudded on as the man continued to trample his way up hill.

Humming he climbed upward over its fallen trees, pushing, snapping through the undergrowth, bending, tearing, crushing life and beauty with unwitting inconsideration; happy in his ignorance, content with his world.

Birds, startled, high-pitched in squawking panic, fluttered and flew in flurries from the cover of the nearby bushes, they sped in all directions, swooping, flapping, gaining height before disappearing into the canopy.

The leaves rustled, shaking, returning to rest, reinstating its claim, expunging the human's unwelcome existence.

"Have you found anything yet?"

Sam ignored the enquiry tapping the keys on his laptop. They were in yet another flea-bitten hole of a motel. The coffee machine was broken; hot water only between some ungodly hour of the night and really early morning and the diner down the road looked like it was botulism on a plate. They had only been there three days and Sam reckoned it was a week too long.

Dean got louder. "Have you found anything yet?" Sam pressed another key. "Have you found anything yet?" Dean got shriller and more insistent. "Have you found anything yet? HAVE YOU FOUND ANYTHING YET?"

"DEAN!"

"Have you found anything yet?"

Okay so Dean was pissed at him, he got that but the all out campaign to 'Bug the Hell out of Sam' was beginning to wear thin, grating on Sam's nerves in exactly the way Dean intended. Pursing his lips into a thin bloodless line Sam shifted his shoulders. He was not going to justify himself, he wasn't, if Dean couldn't accept that Sam had beaten him fair and square on _Need for speed_, even when he'd given him best out of three, then that was Dean's problem not his.

Normally Sam would have ridden out Dean's petulance with an easy calm born of long forbearance that pissed off Dean even more but today Sam was still angry. Dean had been pushing his buttons for the whole three days they had been on this hunt, goading him then playing the innocent. Then last night when having a well-deserved drink after they'd finished salting and burning the poor unfortunate woman who'd been haunting a local school, Dean had topped everything by saddling Sam with 'the friend'.

She looked all of sixteen, skinny with braces and long brown hair but had proudly produced an ID card which said she was twenty two, it had taken Sam less than three minutes to realise that whoever had made or given her the card hadn't taken into account her mental age. He had been forced, admittedly by his own politeness to sit with her while Dean worked his own particular brand of seduction on her friend which as far as Sam could see consisted of ramming his tongue as far down her throat as he could. Sam had finally bottled it when a small hand had slid up his thigh far too high to be comfortable and squeezed.

He'd gotten out of there; not caring that he spilt his beer and pushed past Dean thumping him hard in the back. He hadn't even waited outside the bar but headed straight back to the motel on foot. He was in bed feigning sleep when Dean arrived back thirty minutes after him, mad as hell because apparently the girls came as a pair. Sam, forgetting he was supposed to be asleep, had retorted back that if Dean wasn't man enough maybe it was time to hang up his, kiss me slow take me hard boxers.

The icy atmosphere between them had stayed through the next day until Dean had suggested that they settle matters by playing _Need for Speed_. Sam had initially said an emphatic "No!" wanting to pack and leave the sh*t hole motel ASAP. He told himself that there was no way he was going to let Dean drag him into his adolescent praxis and settling the acrimony between them by playing a game. However, Dean had kept on and on and Sam had, against his better judgement and knowing that it probably would lead to even more rancour, allowed Dean to persuade him.

Having taken up the challenge, Sam, with superior glee, had proceeded to trash his brother, gloating and putting Dean in an even worse mood. It should have made Sam feel better but it hadn't, it hadn't lightened his mood or made him want to forgive his sibling for using him as the butt of his irritation and especially not forgive using him as a babe-sitter.

"Have you found anything yet?"

"For Gods sake Dean grow up."

"I might if you grew a d**k."

Dean smugly leant back on the rumpled, slept in bed and the silence that hung between them was louder than any shouting match. Sam knew without looking that his brother was claiming a moral victory having got under Sam's skin enough to make him say something.

"So have you found anything yet?"

The pause before Sam spoke was long suffering and measured as he drew in a breath and calmed himself down enough to give a civil reply. "Yeah I have. No thanks to you…Here at Wallace Falls."

Dean stayed where he was but there was a distinct change in his demeanour. "Wallace Falls?" He turned his head and watched Sam read off the computer screen.

"Wallace Falls State Park, four thousand, seven hundred and thirty-five acres of camping park with shoreline on the Wallace River, Wallace Lake, Jay Lake and the Skykomish River on the west side of the Cascade Mountains."

"Camping Park!"

Ignoring the horrified exclamation Sam continued. "There are reports on five people being lost in the forest at Wallace Falls over the last two months."

Dean made a derisive noise. "Big Deal, people are always getting lost especially in forests its kinda in the small print."

"Yeah but they're usually found eventually dead or alive."

"So?"

"That's the point, they weren't found, no clothes, no bags, no bodies, nadda."

Sitting up Dean focused his attention on the screen in front of Sam showing a map of the area. "Wendigo?"

Sam sucked on his bottom lip the same thought had occurred to him too. "Could be, I've checked back and as far as I can tell disregarding all those hikers they found one way or another, in the last thirty years eighty-three people have gone missing without trace.

Making a face, scrunching his eyebrows Dean moved his lips in silent calculation. "That's…that's about, on average, two a year." He shrugged. "Co-incidence? I mean two a year isn't that much, not in a place like that? "

"It also doesn't fit what we know about Wendigos, there's no bunching until now. There are gaps but none longer than eighteen months."

"Maybe this one doesn't hibernate."

Dean's theory was plausible but Sam leant back his face thoughtful. "Maybe but the last one we came across just disappeared the people, all their stuff was left, remember we found the camp, the tents."

"Anything in the rule book says Wendigos all behave the same?" All the earlier irascibility was gone now that Dean sniffed a hunt, his whole body leaned forward and his eyes narrowed with an intelligent intensity. "And if it is a Wendigo why has it suddenly got a bad attack of the munchies?"

This was how they worked, Dean asked questions, okay sometimes stupid ones but he pushed Sam to think, to theorise and usually together they would come up with some kind of explanation be it right or wrong and eventually, hopefully the answer.

"Anything changed in the last two months?" Dean questioned again.

"No not really…but…it could be that there are more people?" Sam leaned forward pressing keys. "I mean these places have visitors by the truck load." Eyes darting, side to side, Sam read. "Yep…looking at these statistics visitor uptake has gone up by thirty-seven percent in the last six months" Sam raised his head and caught Dean giving a shudder as if the even the thought of visiting a State Park was abhorrent.

"I suppose…" Sam leaning back pushed the chair onto two legs as he worked the problem. The silence in the room was now one of anticipation. "…It could be that the influx has disturbed the habitat, encroached into its territory." He thumped the chair's front legs to the floor staring at the screen once more. "I read something..." He pointed running his finger down the screen following the text. "Usually the Rangers like you to keep to the special trails. They keep a check but it says here…" He changed the page and after a moment tapped the screen in confirmation. "…that they have recently allowed people to go off the beaten track."

"Like that's a good idea." Dean was plainly sceptical of the Park Authorities sanity at letting Joe Public wander at will in its confines.

"You have to lodge a route plan with the State Park Office if you're going off the marked trail and they have to approve it." Sam continued. "They're very careful about conservation."

"What about all those people who don't lodge a goddamned route plan and just take off."

"Then … we have a much bigger problem than it would first seem." Sam was not at all happy as he acknowledged Dean's perceptive remark about hikers, Sam mentally added in any human. They knew from past experience that what people were supposed to do and what they did were poles apart. He sighed still not entirely convinced that the pattern fitted a Wendigo, "We'll have to check all the missing persons reports for the whole area."

Dean smirked, "That's your department Research Boy" and with that he stretched his arms and brought both hands behind his head then he leant back on the pillows and closed his eyes. "I'm going to get my beauty sleep."

Dean woke, starting upward as the car chassis bounced in a pothole. "Hey, hey…bro' easy with my car." He smoothed his hand soothingly over the dashboard. "Never mind baby, I'm here now." He turned to Sam. "Dude, pull over."

"Dean you've barely had two hours sleep."

"I'm good to go and besides I don't want you shaking her to bits any more than necessary." Dean felt the roll of Sam's eyes as he turned the steering wheel but decided not to comment because his brother was actually doing what he'd asked, without complaint, for once.

The car's tires scrunched the gravel, spitting it upwards as Sam left the metalled road and brought the car to a halt on the verge. The doors creaked open and both Winchesters emerged crumpled and stiff. Four days driving and sleeping in the car had taken its toll and no showers or clean clothes hadn't improved matters.

Raising his arms Dean bent his back, arching into the stretch enjoying the burn of his muscles. Man, his body was definitely looking forward to a bed at the end of this run. He took a breath allowing the cool air to fill his lungs. Holding it inside he let its freshness cleanse the tiredness from his body. He glanced over at Sam and saw that his brother had his eyes closed, his face tilted towards the sun and for an instance Dean saw Sam's youthfulness as the soft warm light smoothed out the lines of worry. Sometimes he forgot how young his brother was.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam's eyes remained closed. Dean wanted to say something, to tell his brother that everything was okay but the words wouldn't come, frustrated he bottled it and rather than let the silence hang, he settled for. "Cool place."

Sam turned suddenly, gazing at him in puzzlement. "Yeah?"

Damn, Dean mentally kicked himself, "Yeah, if you like trees." Sam's answering grunt brought a satisfied smirk to Dean's lips he couldn't have his brother thinking he was appreciating the great outdoors for its aesthetic beauty that would never do and even if he said so himself that was a very good recovery.

He yawned, he really should let Sam continue driving but for some reason he felt restless, not the hyped up feeling of a hunt but a disaffected tension a nagging feeling that wouldn't be identified and wouldn't leave him alone. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, despite its obvious appeal, the stillness of this place made him uneasy and he was itching to be back on the road, to rid himself...

A breeze rushed its way through the treetops lightly disturbing the leaves with a low frish of sound. Dean shuddered as he looked up following the sway of the branches. He rubbed his face, Jeez, what was wrong with him? He risked another squint at Sam and was relieved to find that his brother hadn't noticed. Hadn't noticed what? That Dean was spooked?

Dean walked away from the car hunching his shoulders against the mizzling rain which had settled in, hazing the view before him. He leaned forward, keeping his body weight over his back leg and peered over the edge of the cliff which bounded one side of the unfenced road. The ground fell away running sharply downward into a melee of branches, scrappy bushes and trees which became so dense that they obscured the bedrock. Man that was a drop.

A sudden dizziness washed through him and he swayed alarmingly but the creak and slam of the Impala's door brought him back, literally, from the brink. Dean grasped the annoyance letting his exasperation banish the sudden scare of the vertigo as he focused on Sam's seeming disregard for 'his baby'. "Dude, the car!"

He retraced his steps, shook the mist of drops from his hair and slid into the dry comfortable interior of the Impala. He relished the familiar feel, the way the seat fitted his body, hugged his hips and how his hands slipped into the worn indentations on the steering wheel. This was where he belonged, where he felt at ease, at home.

Sam unfolding a map, loudly flicking it out and smoothing the wrinkled surface disturbed his communion. Dean's pique resurfaced hotly, he had the distinct feeling that his brother was deliberately making as much noise as possible, encroaching on Dean's personal space and spreading himself as far as he could in a deliberate attempt to irritate his older brother.

Dean bit back a jibe; he knew he'd been riding his brother for the last week and for no other reason than he was bored. The hunt had been a simple salt and burn, the motel sh*ty, bars no go zones and with the TV broken it had meant that the nearest form of entertainment had been Sam. He did feel guilty, slightly, because after all it wasn't Sam's fault, well it was for being Sam and doing Sammy things in that Sammy way of his that had wound Dean up since forever and because sometimes he just couldn't help pushing his younger brother's buttons.

"How far out are we?" He asked making sure he kept his tone neutral. "I could do with a shower, a drink and a nice soft bed." There was something in the way that Sam kept his head down and avoided his eyes that stirred suspicion deep within Dean, alerting his big brother radar, but it was fleeting and as Sam answered the feeling dissipated.

"'bout a day." Sam spread the map even further holding it up at the edges. Dean pulled it down so he could see properly almost daring Sam to make a comment but his brother hadn't noticed or had chosen to ignore Dean's peevishness and merely pointed to their position on the map.

"We're here."

Dean bent, eyes taking in the details as his brother slid his finger along the route to their destination. "And that's the entrance to the Park."

"Not much around." The area was almost wholly coloured green with waving brown contour lines narrowly spaced along the ribbon of the river, every now and then the blue line was punctuated with the irregular shape of a lake.

Sam grinned. "This part here is the State Park and this…" He indicated the vast tracts on either side, "…is privately owned land, not much there at all but forest, river and lake."

"No bars?"

"No bars."

The day turned out to be a day and a half which meant another night in the Impala. Dean's mood had not improved and Sam had sat in silence for much of the drive. He didn't mind it was preferable to the sniping and the scenery through the window was impressive.

A large board, with a painting of happy campers, all sweaters, slacks and knitted hats standing outside their neat tents, cooking their evening meal on pristine barbecues, announced the Park entrance to be one mile ahead. Sam felt the car surge forward as Dean pressed the accelerator; he was obviously keen to get to the end of the journey. Sam wished he felt the same. He'd been half dreading, half anticipating this moment since they'd left the last town. He turned towards his brother and opened his mouth then closed it again.

"What?"

"Huh." Sam suddenly realised that Dean was staring at him.

"What were you going to say?"

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"You were." Dean insisted. "You opened your mouth."

"I can open my mouth without speaking."

"That'd be a first."

"You what?"

"Nothing."

"No come on Dean," Sam challenged. "You got something to say to me, say it."

The Impala's engine purred to the rhythmic rumble of the tyres.

"Bitch!"

"Jerk."

Dean kept his eyes on the road and Sam's face transformed from the stern frown as he was unable to stop the grin, which widened enough to show his dimples. He'd heard what his brother had said and he could wait, bide his time. Dean was in for a little surprise and Sam was so going to enjoy every minute.

The radio gave a burst of white noise, its static hissing through the dashboard speakers. Dean thumped the single arrow button on the tape machine and turned up the volume.

For the last twenty-four hours Dean had insisted on tuning into the only station he could find despite the fact it had been fading in and out. Now it seemed they had lost even that contact and the music, which had been fairly muted before gave way and AC/DC invaded the interior of the car assaulting Sam's eardrums. The young hunter sighed resigned himself to a fate of early deafness.

Cell phones wouldn't work either; Sam had put in a last call into Bobby about forty miles back before they'd entered the more mountainous countryside, reporting in and letting him know they would probably be out of touch for a while. Their father's friend had gruffly told him to take care and not do anything stupid.

"So…" His brother glanced over expectantly.

"So?" Sam played dumb deliberately prolonging the moment.

"So what's the plan? Go in check the place out then back to civilisation. There must be a motel or something around here." Dean sounded hopeful, eager even and Sam almost felt sorry for him but not enough to relent.

"Actually…" Sam paused, "…I've already booked us a place."

Dean's eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I thought it would be a good idea for us to be on the spot."

There was silence as Sam let the information sink into his brother's brain.

"On the spot!"

"Yeah."

"Sam tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what?" Sam was all innocence.

"I am not sleeping in a f**king tent."

"No, we're not sleeping in a tent."

Sam watched his brother's shoulders relax before he hit him with both barrels."

"I booked us a Yurt."


	2. Chapter 2

"It's a f**king tent." Dean dropped the duffle at his feet, in the centre of the round, domed, canvas dwelling, decidedly disgruntled and definitely pissed at his brother.

"Dean it's a Yurt."

"I don't care what fancy name you call it. This is definitely a tent; the walls move."

"It has a floor." Sam said, helpfully stamping on the hardwood to emphasise his statement. "…And windows…"

Dean, anger trembling in his body, refused to reply but he clenched his fist, if Sam said one more thing he was going to start throwing punches.

"…And furniture."

Pulling his arm back Dean pivoted and just caught a glimpse of Sam's back as he exited through the doorway. "It can have a four-poster bed for all I care it's still camping. IN A TENT." He yelled after his brother making his point. He turned back to survey the accommodation again. "It's a f**king tent!"

It wasn't that he was against sleeping in a tent, when it was unavoidable but in his opinion NOW was not one of those times. They'd worked hard, driven far and they, _he_ deserved a little bit of comfort. "WE COULDA HAD ONE OF THOSE CABINS." He was aware that he was shouting to thin air but it made him feel better.

The Cabins had looked okay for cabins in the middle of nowhere. They'd passed two on the way up from the parking area; the happy-looking occupants waving to them from their, solid, warm and dry, I've got a proper walls and doors lodgings as Sam had dragged him up the neat edged path to this... He shook his head as once more he gazed around. "…And how the hell are we supposed to salt the windows."

Sighing, aware that they'd actually slept in worse places and that tonight he would be able to sleep stretched out to his full length, Dean picked up Sam's bag from the couch, dumped it on the floor and replaced it with his own. If he was going to have to sleep here then he was damn well gonna claim the best spot, although how the hell you were supposed to fit, what was it Sam said, six people in here was beyond him.

The 'living' area was small with two couches, one a guest bed, of the kind that had an extra mattress that rolled out from underneath and the other fitted the description of a bench, narrower and shorter than Dean's choice. He chortled to himself, Sammy was gonna have to hang his butt over the side to fit on that. There didn't appear to be too much else inside, a chest of drawers, a cupboard and Dean noted with another rush of irritation no bathroom.

Outside, through a lockable door, was a pleasant decked area with a rail running around its perimeter and an awning shading over half its expanse. A rustic wooden table with two benches tucked underneath stood in one corner and a camping stove/barbecue in the other.

Suddenly something dropped into place in Dean's brain. That was what Sam had bought when they'd stopped in the last town, 'supplies'. Dean hadn't twigged at the time, he'd had no reason to but Sam had returned to the Impala with two large carriers from the small mart. When asked all Sammy had said was, "Supplies." Dean assumed, wrongly, that his brother had meant deodorant and other crap like that.

His brother had been a devious little busy bee, he'd obviously planned the whole thing from booking the…the …Yurt through to making sure they had eatables. Dean huffed a small laugh "Sammy, Sammy you sly dog." It amused the tall hunter still more that Sam actually wanted to stay in something like this. It was a bit…bit…he searched his mind for the right word…clean!

Their experience of camping had been Dad leaving them in some godforsaken spot with nothing but a backpack each and a map. The first time he'd left them with a tarp but that was a one-time luxury after that they'd had nothing between them and the elements.

Dean had enjoyed these adventures until one trip when Sam must have been around seven it had rained constantly for three days. His brother had got soaked and was headed for hypothermia until Dean had pulled him close, covering his shivering form with his own body and held on until, them not having showed up at a check point, their Dad had come to find them. Camping after that had lost its allure for Dean and had become a chore to be endured.

However, Sam seemed to be non-the-worse for his experience and had revelled in 'the great outdoors' collecting fungi, cataloguing beetles and other various flora and fauna. It must be the geek in him Dean had thought more than once as his brother, in all seriousness, had held up some disgusting organic object or insect for his inspection. Sammy in those days had never seemed happier than when he was caked up to his eyeballs in gunk, except perhaps when ensconced in a library surrounded by books.

Dean wondered casually as he settled himself, pulling a cushion behind his head, what had happened to turn Sam into such a girl and make him to want to stay here in 'Camping for Wimps 101'.

When Sam arrived back arms full of sleeping bags Dean remained where he was, full length on the couch, ankles crossed, hands behind his head.

"'Bout time."

"Look, Dean…"

"I have nothing to say to you except that I'm hungry and unless they have dial a pizza…" Dean propping himself up on one elbow and with heavy sarcasm said, "Oh No, I forgot, no cell reception. Then it looks, little brother, very much like you're it on the cooking front."

Satisfied that he'd made his point Dean laid back down and resumed his posture of studied relaxation.

XXxxxxxxxx

Pushing his plate away Sam leant back against the rail and watched Dean wiping his bread around his, catching the last of the gravy before cramming the soggy mess into his mouth. A smile twitched on Sam's lips and he wished that it were always this simple to put his brother in a good mood.

"You've been holding out on me Sammy, this is good."

"Don't sound so surprised."

Dean still chewing was looking up at him. "Hey, I remember your speciality, Wheeties on toast."

The laughter burst out of Sam and he felt a rush of warmth towards his brother. "You said it was your favourite." He teased.

"I didn't wanna hurt your feelings, you'd done it special for my birthday and you gave me a…" Dean leaned over and rummaged in his jacket pocket.

" Oh Yeah," Sam sat up clicking his fingers delving into his memory, "…a key ring with a … "

Dean joined in "…four leafed clover. Where the hell you got it from I don't know. I know you didn't have any money."

Flushing Sam dropped his eyes for a moment and confessed. "I stole it…from the office of the motel, they had a whole bunch in a box."

"My, my Sammy I never knew…" Dean shook his head as he produced the said item with a flourish, dangling it from his finger, "…I was the recipient of stolen property."

Sam was in shock. "You…you kept it?" He could hardly believe it, he must have been what, all of five and Dean had saved his present, in fact he carried it with him.

"'course I did Sammy I got everything you ever gave me."

Not knowing what to say Sam sat marvelling at the person who was his brother. Dean rarely showed this side of himself, the softer almost sentimental streak was kept well hidden. His brother didn't like being so open and vulnerable so usually he kept everything clamped down inside his armoured guard of quips and smirks. Sam loved it, loved his brother and was wary of spoiling the sense of easy togetherness that the shared memory had given them. He decided that a smile was all that was needed and his heart swelled as Dean smiled back.

"Hey." A man dressed the light beige shirt and dark trousers of a Park Ranger stood at the bottom of the few steps which led up to their piece of decking.

"Hey."

"Hey." Sam tensed without visible movement, readying himself and saw his brother quietly reach towards the jacket and presumably his gun.

"Ranger McFarlane. I like to meet all my new guests," The smile was genuine and the man appeared at ease. "…make them welcome and check there are no problems." Sam relaxed slightly, maybe he was what he seemed. "I haven't seen you boys out this way before…first time in these parts?"

"First time in Wallace Falls but we've passed through this area before. Beautiful place." Sam knew what he was doing, echoing part of the Ranger's speech back to him and using a compliment to set up rapport.

"Sure is and we like to keep it that way." A tone of authority crept into the Ranger's voice. "You boys planning to go hikin' or bikin'?"

"Hiking, We were gonna check out the trails tomorrow." Sam kept it casual. "Which ones would you recommend?"

"Ah now that depends on what you want to see and how far you wanna go to see it?" The teeth flashed with a smile and the Ranger leaned on the post. "There are two main trails up to the falls. Both start off down by the Ranger's Office but a after a little ways they split, you can't miss the junction. The trail to the left is easier but it's less interestin' in my opinion. It takes a roundabout route that goes away from the river. It's also about a mile longer. The one to the right is steeper and runs up through the forest. Mind you either route gives you magnificent views of the Lower, Middle and Upper Falls."

"Cool." That was Dean. "What if we want to go off trail?" The ranger looked him up and down and Sam could see that his brother's ripped jeans didn't rest well with the man.

"It's me." He drew the Rangers attention away from Dean. "I'm a Biology Major."

"Oh yeah?" The suspicion remained.

"I want to photograph some species for my paper. Dean volunteered to drive me all the way up here."

"He did, did he."

Sam willed Dean to keep quiet the last thing they needed was for Dean to get snarky. "That's why we want to go off trail…to find the rare plants. I've heard there are some splendid specimens."

"To photograph you say."

"Yeah."

The Ranger brightened, suspicion gone. "Well you heard right we sure do, over a hundred rare plants. If you come down in the mornin' I'll search out a leaflet and you can mark your route and leave it with the Ranger on duty."

"Thanks." Sam had every intention of lodging a route but no intention of keeping to it.

"I hear you had some folks go missing." Dean's query seemed casual but Sam knew that every sense his brother had was focused on the Park Rangers reaction.

"Folks always go missin' round here." The Ranger looked very serious but then his face cracked and laughter deep and resounding came from his belly. "Two yards from their door they get lost." There was contempt mixed in with the amusement. "But yeah, had one only last week. Was missing three days according to the couple who reported it. We searched for two days but nothin'"

Sam noted that the Ranger sounded like he hadn't expected to find anything. "You called off the search?" Two days didn't seem a long time given the amount of area they had to cover.

"Wasn't much point continuin', it rained hard so any tracks were washed away and we had no idea where to start lookin'. He didn't lodge any routes with us." The Ranger spat on the ground. " We had another one 'bout a month before, same thing, first we knew he was missin' was when his wife called the cops saying he hadn't come home. He'd been up here for twenty days, on his own. We had no idea how long he'd been gone, it could a bin anything from two days to over a week. You've seen the forest, a man could be lyin' two yards away from you an' ya wouldn't see him. Idiot probably didn't even have a map just one of those gizzmos."

Sam could see that his brother's interest was aroused. "Sat Nav? Does that work up here?"

"Hah! your welcome to try but I wouldn't wanna stake my life on one of those things. You'd probably end up in Texas." They all joined in the laughter at that one and the Ranger straightened. "Well if there's anythin' you need the Ranger's Office is open from six am and you'll find an information sheet in the top drawer of the chest. Then reminding them firmly to lodge a route plan in the morning, he took his leave.

XXxxxxxxxx

Dean was laid out in what was fast becoming his favourite place. He'd shifted the couch over so that from where he lay he could see out through the door and most of the ways down the path to the car.

He was feeling very agreeable his foul mood of the last week was dissipating rapidly, he had a full belly and he'd almost forgiven Sam for the tent, almost but not quite. Dean exhaled slowly letting his gaze wander the scene in front of him. The Trees cool and green, contrasted the warmth and beauty of the evening sunlight which cast itself through the leafy tops bathing everything in a golden hue. Even his brother looked handsome, he mused, as he watched the freakishly tall figure walk up the path.

Sam had been down to the wash house and Dean could see that his brother's hair hung wet about his face dripping on the towel draped around his neck. Sam ducked as he entered the Yurt.

"You gonna lie there all evening?"

Dean in his new found mellowness refused to be riled and bit down a churlish, "What's it to you Sasquatch?" but then he got a whiff of clean Sam. He made a face, covered his nose and couldn't help making a comment. "Ugh what the hell girly stuff did you use on your hair?"

Sam checked the label on the bottle. "Fruits of the Forest."

"Well sleep downwind or I might eat you in the middle of the night."

Sam huffed a laugh and sat on the couch opposite rubbing the towel over his damp hair. Dean smirked to himself and relaxed a little more, stretching out his legs with an appreciative and puckish "Ahhhhh"

"Comfortable?" Sam stopped his rubbing to look over at him.

Relishing the fact that he'd managed to get the point across to his brother, Dean smirked, "Yes thanks," and he again emphasised the length of the couch, pointing his toes and arching up with a push of his arms above his head. "Think I might go get a shower and turn in."

The silence from his brother was very, very loud.

Dean regarded his sibling for a few moments. Sam, keeping his head down was rubbing harder and was, Dean noticed, failing to look at him. "What?" Still no answer and no let up in the rubbing. "Saaam!" He drew out the pronunciation a suspicion growing in his gut, a nasty suspicion. "Don't tell that this freaking place doesn't have showers."

"Alright I won't tell you." Sam's voice was muffled by the towel but Dean heard.

"You'll be telling me next that there's no hot water either."

Again with that significant silence.

"For gods sake Sam the last motel was sh*ty enough but it at least had basic amenities."

Sam came out of hiding, "This has the basic amenities."

"Yeah Boo Boo in the world of Yogi Bear." Swinging his legs round Dean sat up and scraped his duffle towards him. He rummaged muttering under is breath, life had nosedived again and at the moment Sam was high on the list of people to blame he had to get out, get away find a bar, however damned far away it was and have a drink.

He and Sam had been on their previous hunt for three days, working close, very close and then added to that were the five days on the road, sharing the same small space practically living in each other's pockets. Dean swore, at least throughout that time he'd had the promise of something better at the end of the line. Now that dream had been dashed just like every other f**king dream he'd had. He stopped hand still inside his bag realising that maybe he was being a little over-dramatic but hell he couldn't back down now. Straightening, withdrawing his hand and pocketing his wallet he grabbed his jacket.

"Where're you going?" Sam was staring at him in surprise.

"For a drink, do I need your permission Grey Owl?" He turned to walk away not caring at this particular moment how far he was gonna have to drive to get one.

"Dean…" The name came out and Dean stopped, tilted his head back and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"Sammy you're my brother, I get it but I don't do the bonding thing, sitting around a campfire singing is not…"

"Dean… " Sam interrupted his brother flow, "It's not that ..."

"What Sam? Afraid to be on your own in the dark?"

"The park closes at ten."

"Excuse me?"

Gabbling Sam continued. "It's in the handouts the Ranger mentioned? Last exit and entry is at ten pm and …."

"Go on." Dean defied his brother to come up with anything else that could possibly make this place worse.

"…and they turn the generator off."

"Generator?"

"Yeah, for the light."

They have generators. No showers, no hot water but they have electricity?" His credulity was being stretched to its limits. How could a place that generated its own electricity not have f**king hot water. Dean turned slowly challenging Sam to answer.

"I'm sorry." Sam gave an apologetic smile and shrugged his shoulders.

For Dean there was nothing more to say and thoroughly pissed with the whole place, the hunt and Sam he decided to go to bed, after all there was nothing else to do.

XXxxxxxxx

Rearranging his cover for the umpteenth time Sam tried to protect the exposed parts of his body. Even though the evening had been warm as soon as the sun had sunk below the tree line the air had cooled rapidly and he was cold despite still being fully clothed. He'd decided against undressing because, as Dean had so eloquently put it as he'd zipped himself into his bag, "There's all kinds of crap out there and only a thin piece of canvas between us and it. I'm not getting caught with my pants down." Sam had agreed and said so but Dean was already asleep, soft snores issuing from the wrapped heap on the double bed.

Sam had sat reading until lights out at ten. He'd had to admit, although only to himself that it was a bit like being at a 'Summer Camp' not that he and Dean had ever attended such a scheme, their Dad had disdained the very concept saying that it was a fast way to get yourself killed. Sam wondered if their father had ever grasped the notion of fun. It was hard to imagine the John Winchester he knew letting go enough to fully enjoy something. There had been times when Sam was very young that they'd all played ball or gone swimming on a hot day but he'd never seen his Dad dance or helpless with laughter.

It was absolutely black with the lights out. In a town or even the countryside the lights of humankind lit up the night sky but here where there was little or no habitation there was no light to reflect. Sam fumbled his way to his smaller couch, he'd noted earlier how Dean had grabbed himself the best bed but hadn't challenged him on it. He'd learnt fast as a younger sibling when to push his brother and when to back off and literally let sleeping Deans' lie.

He felt for the flashlight. The bright light crashed into his painfully into his retina making him squint as his senses were overloaded. He waited then played the beam over the untidy pile of belongings that Dean had pushed over to Sam's side of the tent until he found his sleeping bag. Then he unzipped it and lay it over him like a blanket curling as best he could on the narrow bed, there was no way, given his length that it would have covered any more than his legs and abdomen if he'd left it doubled over.

He laid, waiting for sleep, schooling his mind to shut down, hardly able to tell if his eyes were open or shut the darkness was so complete and eventually he drifted, lulled by Dean's breathing, into a soft slumber.

It had been two hours later by his watch that he'd woken stiff from holding himself tense against the cold. He'd again pulled the thickness around his body and tried to rest. Tossing and turning he slipped in and out of sleep for the next few hours but the bag-blanket kept slipping from his body. Now tugging on the corner he registered in his half-sleep state that it was trapped, he pulled harder. The quilted cover unrolled spilling Sam onto the hard floor with a loud thud.

"Sonofabitch Sammy, make more noise why don't you."

Slightly dazed Sam sat rubbing his banged knee as the bag slid off the bed whispering as it fell into a heap next to him. He heard Dean shift, thumping his pillow before sliding an arm back underneath it and burrowing his head with an irritated sigh; so much for sympathy.

Dawn light filtered through the Squares of window, greying the blackness within the tent. Running his hand up over his face Sam pushed back the hair, which had fallen into his eyes and peered at the luminous hands on his watch. Quarter after four.

Sighing Sam climbed back onto the couch, pulling his pillow down and tucking the cover back over himself. He tried to settle lying flat on his back rather than his usual semi-foetal position but it became so uncomfortable that he had to turn. A beetle skittered, traversing the deck and along the line of salt across the threshold. It made tiny tapping noises with its feet and seemed totally unaware of Sam following its progress. It passed by going about its business and left him to try and regain the calm of sleep.

Twenty-five after four, quarter of five, five and Sam gave up. It was now light enough to read and he felt he could better use his time doing some research; although Dean seemed convinced that they were dealing with another Wendigo, Sam wasn't so sure. Before they'd left civilisation Sam had printed out a whole 'forest' of information not sure if he'd be able to hook up his laptop. Up until last night he'd not had time to do more than skim through.

As far as he could make out there were several options as to what could be snatching people and making them completely disappear.


	3. Chapter 3

Sweat dripped off Dean as he forced himself keep up an even but fast pace, he'd stripped off his plaid shirt way back down the trail and had it slung around his waist but the heat of exertion continued to bead his skin with perspiration. He pulled the hem of his T up and wiped his forehead not that it did much good as the material was already wringing wet.

They'd been walking steadily uphill for three hours and the thing that Dean found incredible was not the steep incline or the dense undergrowth to the side or even the huge trees but that they weren't alone, so much for tranquil beauty, the place was more crowded than lunchtime at MacDonald's. Young couples in pristine matching gear sporting ski-pole walking sticks, families dragging less than enthusiastic teenagers, dads with kids slung on their backs or their fronts; all heading unaware, upward into the forest, tramping trail and communing with nature.

Sam nodded, smiled and spoke, saying "Good morning," while Dean had kept his head down, uncomfortable with the presence of people so near a hunt, in his eyes they were all potential victims.

Two tanned well-seasoned oldies bounding up the path behind him and Sam, hardly out of breath, stopped for a chat. They expounded in great detail and depth on the loveliness of the falls. Apparently they had visited every other weekend for the last two decades and now that they were retired even stayed during the week.

Dean made a finger across the throat mime to Sam trying to attract his attention telling him to cut it short but however many times he performed the action, Sam, much to Dean's annoyance, kept asking questions. He was beginning to despair of ever making the hunt but much to his chagrin and Sam's smug know-it-all superiority the 'casual chatting' had paid off when the couple revealed that they had been the ones to report the last man missing.

"Was there anything unusual about that day?" Sam had put on his most soulful puppy-dog expression and Dean had to admit, grudgingly, that it worked. Maggie and Alan had settled themselves on a nearby trunk obviously delighted that the young man was so interested in what they had to say.

Dean often wondered how his brother had people eating out of his hand within minutes, he had the gift himself but it only seemed to work on a certain kind of woman, mind you he'd never really tried his brand of charm on anyone else. Sam's though, it defied explanation but had saved them on more than one occasion and certainly got the most unlikely people to open up. Dean suspected that it had something to do with the air of scrubbed innocence that seemed to surround his Sammy that fresh faced college boy look that said "Trust me, I care."

Mind you after fifteen minutes, which resulted in them both knowing all about cousin Molly's operation Dean was beginning to realise that opening up wasn't one of Maggie's problems but that keeping to the point might be.

More hikers trudged past as the couple prattled on telling Sam, in mild outrage, how the man's car had been parked in their spot. "We used to camp but now we book a cabin, the same one," and the space in the corner of the parking lot is the one allocated to our cabin. He was parked there when we arrived. Obviously didn't know the rules." She managed to look understanding but sounded disdainful as if he shouldn't have been anywhere near a State Park if he didn't know the etiquette.

Alan took over the story from Maggie. "It wasn't until the Tuesday morning that we saw him to ask him to move it but he didn't."

"He didn't move it?" Sam leant forward.

"Didn't come back to move it." Maggie took back control of the conversation. "He went off quite early and he promised Alan that he would shift the car over one place when he got back. He was very nice about it; you know how some people can be awful…."

Dean groaned inwardly because he could see she was settling in for another half an hour of irrelevant gossip but Sam forestalled her by asking another question. "Did he mention where he was going?"

"Oh up to the top, its lovely up there the falls are spectacular, we never tire of it, mind you, you can't hear yourself speak for the roar of the water…" Thank goodness for small mercies Dean thought as he schooled his face into an interested look. Maggie continued, "…but he did say he wanted to explore a bit further, go right on up."

"Really?" Sam encouraged.

"Oh yeah he looked like the intrepid type," She giggled and gave Sam a significant look, "just like you, dear." Dean smirked his brother'd had this effect on more than one lady of this certain age; Oh yes, Sammy was certainly a babe magnet.

While Maggie was stripping Sam with her eyes Alan who didn't seem in the least perturbed carried on the story. "When he didn't come back we thought it a bit unusual most people arrive back before dark. I mean one or two hike and stay overnight but not often, that's why we waited."

"We waited three days. To give him time, we're not monsters." The mention of the word 'monsters' brought Dean back from his equable reverie about Sam's admirers and he had a sudden irrational thought that these two mild mannered, silvered haired senior citizens might just be the creatures they were looking for.

"So we reported it… Are you all right dear?"

Dean realised he'd been staring and now he was the centre of attention as three pairs of eyes stared back. "Er…I'..I'm fine." He grinned but the effect was not one he'd been aiming for and the couple's faces changed from sympathetic inquisitiveness to 'who's the idiot' as they turned back to his brother.

"Those Rangers, such a nice bunch of boys aren't they? So dedicated."

Dean huffed at that but Sam quietened him with a look. "They sure are. So are you going up to the upper falls?"

For one horrified moment Dean thought his brother was going to suggest that they all trek up together and his brain went into overload thinking all the reasons why they couldn't, he even got round to opening his mouth to protest but Alan saved him. "Oh no, we went up there on the first day. We have a routine, on the first day the high falls, Middle Falls on the second and Lower Falls and beach on the last, when we're tired. Today is our second day so we stake our pitch, eat our picnic midway," he patted the bag he was carrying, "…and watch the world go by."

Literally, Dean thought as yet another party passed by on the trail, kids shrieking, stripping the leaves off the lower branches and scattering the shreds to the ground, now they were true monsters.

"It was a shame, they never found him, you know, such a nice man but the Rangers had his car towed so everything was okay in the end."

About to retort 'glad you think so' Dean caught Sam's eye and turning away he suddenly became extremely interested in a green leaf wafting at eye level. He knew anyway that the irony in such a remark would probably slide way over Maggie and Alan's head and be taken at face value. He was truly wasted on some people.

Looking quite happy and unaware of her narrow escape from being nailed by Dean's sarcasm Maggie slid down off the tree trunk, Alan beside her and started to fuss over the backpack she had deposited at her feet. "Now look at the time, you've kept us talking far too long, you bad thing." She, for want of a better word in Dean's vocabulary, leered at Sam, "… we're all behind schedule." Within minutes the couple were out of sight having leapt up the track like a couple of gazelles.

Leaning back against a tree Dean plastered a wide grin on his face. "She had the hots for you Sammy."

"No she didn't." The younger hunter looked flustered and embarrassed his skin taking on a slightly pink tinge which had nothing to do with his recent exertion.

"Sam you are sooo intrepid."

"Shut up." Turning away Sam continued the climb.

Dean couldn't resist. "You bad thing you."

"Dean…" The reproving tone in Sam's voice wafted down reaching that certain pitch which warned Dean to back off. Giving a slight snicker he heaved his rucksack into place and with a new spring in his step he followed his brother.

Another two hours had them way above the middle falls and relieved to find that the crowds had thinned to a few of the more hardy walkers. They trudged on in silence until Sam turned to him. "You wanna rest?"

"Do you?" It wasn't a competition but Dean wasn't going to be the first to stop. He had to keep reminding himself that he worked out, he was fit and being fit wasn't that you didn't get out of breath but that you recovered more quickly from the exertion which caused the out of breathedness in the first place. It was about this time that he realised his brain was rambling and he shut himself up.

"Yeah, I could do with a breather." Sam stepped to the side of the trail to let another couple pass. They nodded a greeting and he nodded back. "And I wanna look at the map, I think we're nearing the place where we branch away from the main path if you wanna go on above the falls."

"Good." It couldn't be soon enough for Dean. Un-shouldering his backpack he pulled out the water bottle Sam had filled that morning. He'd been a little shocked when his brother had produced two packs, water bottles, dried food and waterproofs along with all the other paraphernalia associated with hunting. Sam had really thought this through and Dean suddenly realised that this wasn't going to be a walk in the park; well it was a walk in the park but one that had mountains, covered over four thousand acres and possibly had a potentially lethal monster in the bushes.

"Maggie said that our missing man, Joseph Caplin, was going beyond the falls further up the side of the mountain and if I remember correctly there is a side trail that leaves the main path… Here." Sam nudged his arm and Dean in mid-drink spilt water over his face and down his neck.

"Damn it Sammy." He wasn't too upset the water was coolish and almost as refreshing on the outside as it was inside but it was the principal.

"Sorry." Sam didn't even look up. "It's up ahead about a hundred yards, come on." He folded the map to the right place and strode off. Dean, still drinking grabbed his rucksack and had to run to catch up, his brother had set off at such a quick pace.

It was hard work and Dean's leg calf muscles ached with the stretch of moving uphill. He remembered the sly sneer as the young, very young and impossibly fit Park Ranger had looked them both up and down and said, "You boys had better be prepared for a bit of a climb," as he'd filed the route Sam had just handed to him.

Dean had wanted to punch the Ranger's smug face in but Sam seeing the danger had laid a hand on his arm and applied pressure. Dean consoled himself with the knowledge that the off trail route the arrogant sh*t had just put in the draw was pure fiction and that he should be grateful that Dean hadn't shoved it down his throat.

He tripped not paying attention to where he was putting his feet and nearly cannoned into Sam who'd slowed slightly gazing around him, head dropping down to check the map and then up again checking the landmarks.

"Dude if you put your finger in your mouth and hold it up to the wind so help me I'll…"

"This way."

Xxxxxxxxx

Sam kept up a rhythm, which was measured and steady but the uphill grind was tiring and he could feel the burn in his muscles with every stride. The wide well-trodden easy trail had narrowed to an overgrown, unfrequented track and he had to tread carefully working his way around tree roots and ducking branches mindful that a leg or ankle injury in this kind of territory could be fatal. He could hear Dean behind him breathing heavily his tread as slow as his own.

"When can we eat, I'm starving."

Dean was complaining again. Sam ignored it, again. It wasn't that his brother was unfit, or couldn't handle the rough climb, he was taking that in his stride but Dean was hungry; so what was new? Dean was always hungry for something, for food, for a hunt, for sex!

"Sam…"

Breaking his silence Sam turned on his brother in exasperation. "Dean we had an energy bar an hour ago. Unless you're gonna go catch us supper, which by the way I don't recommend given that we are looking for a creature which likes to sneak up and most probably eat us for dinner, we have to make our provisions last." He swung back to continue but that didn't stop him catching Dean from the corner of his eye making a face and mimicking what he'd said. "I saw that."

"What?"

Deciding it wasn't worth rising to the bait Sam sighed and continued doing his best to once again ignore Dean's peeved muttering behind him. His brother would be fine, complaining was just the coping mechanism that Dean had when he was in stressful situations that and eating. Mind you eating was Dean's hobby, his solace, his pleasure, his passion, too bad they only had army rations.

They continued along the valley side heading steadily uphill until the track seemed to take a turn, plunging them into denser forest. Here the undergrowth was lush, brushing their legs at every stride making it more of an effort to walk. Panting heavily Sam'd had to stop several times to regain his breath.

He halted again bending forward hands on knees, taking in deep breaths of air, they'd been hiking now for seven hours with only three short breaks and Sam was man enough to admit that he was beat. He brought his head up trying to see the path ahead but saw nothing but leaves and more leaves beyond that. Ranger McFarlane had been right a man could be laid two feet from you and you'd never know.

Gathering one last effort he moved forward and pushing several branches out of his way he pressed on to suddenly emerge into an unexpected clearing. It was cool and leafy green as the late afternoon sunlight filtered down through the canopy illuminating the carpet of dried needles strewn across the forest floor. Looking around Sam scoped the area his eyes taking in the details, analysing and processing and he came to the conclusion, with a certain amount of relief that this was as good a place as any to overnight.

Dean's crunching feet came to a halt behind him. "We stopping?" He sounded hopeful.

"Yeah. We're not gonna get much further today."

"Great." Dean's enthusiasm was almost childlike. "You break out the food and I'll get the coffee sorted."

Easing his backpack to the ground Sam arched his back and smoothed his hand over the sore place on his shoulder, he was glad he'd bought the rucksacks rather than use their duffles, carrying the weight of hunting paraphernalia in those would have rubbed him raw.

"You okay?" Dean had noticed, like he always did when Sam was hurting.

"M'fine."

Sam waited until Dean had resumed his mission to gather kindling before opening his pack. He felt like he was being deceitful or underhand somehow for what he was about to do but he knew that if he told Dean he was sure he would face unmitigated teasing, not just on the hunt but probably, he huffed, for the rest of his life.

Glancing over at his brother to make sure he wasn't watching Sam brought out a small bowl and placed it on the ground. He checked on Dean again and extracted some brown bread from a zipped pocket. Quickly he broke it into pieces and dropped them into the dish. Then he sprinkled in some dried fruit.

Moving as quietly as he could he set the whole thing on a stump at the edge of the clearing. Bending to rummage again in his bag he brought out a carton of milk ripped the top off and placed it carefully by the side of the bowl.

"I'm gonna need more than that Sammy."

His brother's voice, suddenly close and his own guilt made him start but he recovered enough to retort. "It's not for you." Sam had to brazen it out now so he kept his head down and knelt, self-consciously aware that Dean was watching him.

"Are you serious?"

Bowing his head Sam recited several lines of verse. Finishing he rose and faced an incredulous Dean

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Making an offering."

There was a beat and Sam saw his brother struggling to find something to say; his face changing comically until he finally blurted out. "Who to …the fairies?" Sam watched Dean actually swing his gaze over the glade as if he expected to see the tiny winged creatures swirling in the sunbeams. Sam regarded his brother, wondering, could …he took a breath before he spoke.

"Dean, do you believe in fairies?"

The answer came back too quickly. "No"

"You do…you believe in fairies." Sam gazed at his brother with a kind of amused awe, his big, macho brother believed in fairies.

Dean backtracked, "Well I wouldn't call them fairies…as such. I mean I don't think they have tidgy wings and little green hats but I came across a pixie…" He trailed of as Sam's slow smile turned into a full laugh.

"Dean."

Shrugging Dean bent and picked up a stick, feeling its length, turning it over, then he bent again picking another. Sam's mind raced trying to think how he could ease the uncomfortable atmosphere without starting an argument. "I've been reading various pieces of lore which says that in forests such as these, natural not plantations its often wise to make an offering to … the spirits or guardians asking for their blessing to walk amongst the trees."

"Well aren't you the veritable tree hugger."

"Dean…I…"

"Here." Holding out a candy bar Dean avoided Sam's eyes. "Stick this down. It may not be a health freak."

Sam took the bar, peeled off its wrapper and laid it almost reverently next to the bowl and milk. "Thanks man." He was grinning he couldn't help it.

"Sam," Dean's warning note was evident. "I was on a hunt…on my own and…just and…" Sam was still grinning from ear to ear. "So help me Sammy if you ever tell anyone…"

"And who am I gonna tell?"

There was a long silence during which Dean snapped the twigs he'd collected and arranged them inside a small ring of stones. Sam realised that his brother had closed this particular conversation.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The ground was hard, for some reason harder than a proper floor and there were bits sticking in him. Not for the first time and probably not for the last Dean wished that Sam had brought the sleeping bags. He squirmed and rolled onto his other side, curling in an attempt to get comfortable. It was about then that he realised he needed the bathroom, or its equivalent bush. He tried to ignore the feeling in his bladder, to think of something else, anything else.

"Dean are you humming?"

Sam was on first watch sitting about three feet away from him back against a tree.

"Stop watching me sleep."

He heard Sam snigger. "I can't even see you it's so dark."

"Well stop snorting how's a person supposed to get some shut eye with you makin' so much noise."

Dean tried again, forcibly relaxing his muscles and counting backwards from a hundred like he used to tell Sammy to do.

"Are you counting?"

"Shut up Sam."

The trees above him creaked and he could hear tiny rustling sounds right next to his ... "Sonofabitch." He leapt up brushing his face convulsively, real or imagined the sensation of his skin crawling made him shudder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Breathless with the sudden explosiveness of his movement Dean felt his painfully thudding heart slowing, resuming its normal rate as the rush of adrenaline dissipated. "Something…something…" He brushed his face again as he realised it was probably an insect. "Freaking things think they can walk all over you." He shuddered again, he wasn't frightened of insects, not small ones anyway but he did object to sharing a bed with them. He jerked again as he a felt touch on his arm.

"Hey, hey it's me." Sam squeezed.

"Damn it Sammy don't sneak up on a guy." Dean hadn't even heard or felt his sibling move. He took a couple of steps away snapping a twig loudly under his booted foot. How the hell did Sammy get so close without him knowing?

"Sorry man."

The pine needles gave soft crunches as Sam moved his feet, no doubt taking him back to the tree.

"Look, seeing as I'm awake I'll take over the watch." Dean tried to sound like he was doing Sam a favour when really he was so far past the end of the line of being weirded out that there was no way he would be able to shut his eyes let alone sleep.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He heard Sam lying himself down. "Sam?"

"What?"

"You don't think this thing is a Wendigo do you?" Dean had been mulling this over since discovering Sam laying out the bowl. Why would Sam do that if he thought they were hunting a Wendigo. He knew Sam was into reading all the old beliefs and stuff but the difference between reading and putting the ancient rituals into practice was a whole different ball game. There was a pause but Dean could hear Sam thinking.

"Not sure, it sounds like a Wendigo but…"

"But?"

Sam sighed. "It doesn't feel right."

Dean had learnt to respect Sam's feelings. "So what was that offering thing?"

"Dunno…" Sam sounded genuinely uncertain, "…hedging our bets?"

There was no harm in that Dean thought, nothing like covering all the bases but he still had a deep worry. If they weren't sure what they were up against how the hell were they supposed to hunt whatever it was and how were they supposed to know how to kill it! He pushed down his uncertainty unsure of how to answer his brother. In the end he settled for an uncomfortable silence and leant back against the tree.

"Dean?"

Oh sh*t! "Yeah?"

"I…"

Dean cut across. "Get some sleep Sammy, you can tell me what an awesome brother I am in the morning."


	4. Chapter 4

I have an apology to make.

Apparently somewhere along the line I must have hit the wrong button and Chapter 2 was a repeat of Chapter 1. I am sorry and I have now corrected this so if you want to go back and read please do so. If you don't you will miss Dean's reaction to sleeping in a Yurt.

Thank you to hotshow for pointing this out brownie points to you.

Okay so here is Chapter 4. Fingers crossed.

**Chapter 4**

Sunlight warmed Sam's face as the last remnants of sleep fell away. Gradually he became aware that it was light around him and that his back was complaining from lying on the hard ground. Rolling slightly to ease the stiffness he brought his arm up and squinted his eyes to check his watch, nine forty. Sh*t it was late why hadn't Dean woken him? "Dean?"

He pushed himself up staring around looking for signs of the older hunter. "Dean?" He stood and swung his gaze round the clearing, puzzled but not yet unduly worried. Dean's backpack was to his right, his own he'd used as a pillow, "DEAN," the loud harshness of his voice disturbed the air pressure around him and the sensation made him feel weird, wrong, like he was intruding in some private place, like something unseen wanted him gone. He turned quickly scanning the mass of leaves and branches, spooked more by his creepy feelings than Dean's disappearance.

Waiting, concern building, he strained trying to hear his brother's voice but the only sounds were the background rustlings of the forest. Sam gave a shudder and rubbed at the prickly feeling on the back of his neck, telling himself to get a grip but despite his conscious attempts to quash his sense of alarm he couldn't lower his guard and he instinctively held his body tense and alert, combat ready.

Dean was probably taking a leak or gathering firewood or…. Sam had been going through possibilities, scenarios but the minutes passed and Dean didn't reappear.

Worry streaked through Sam now. His brother would not have wandered off, not without telling him or leaving a message, not on a hunt.

Dad had taught, no drilled it into them that when in the field together neither should make a move without advising the other. Sam had been angry at first thinking that it was their Dad's way of getting Dean to keep tabs on him but he had soon realised the importance of such a strategy after he'd gone off on his own and gotten himself into trouble with a black dog; it had only been Dean's unerring ability to anticipate Sam that had saved his hide.

Huffing he told himself that there was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation and there was no use getting panicky but he still found himself at the edge of the clearing checking for signs of Dean, a twig or broken branch. What he didn't do was try shouting again much as he wanted to; if his brother had heard and been able to reply he would have done so. More shouting would only alert whatever was out there.

It frightened Sam how easily hunting came back to him, how all those years of training kicked in without him even having to think about it. His lips twitched into a smile at the irony. He'd tried so hard to get away from the life yet here he was, alone, miles from anywhere trying to track some unmentionable monster which had most likely snatched his brother during the night. He sighed, "Sam Winchester your life sucks."

"Keep telling you bro you need to loosen up."

"DEAN! What the f…" Sam practically did a double take, he'd not heard his brother approach.

"What's for breakfast? I'm starved." Dean squatted and started rifling through his backpack spilling the contents onto the ground at his feet. "Did you bring any of those 'Healthy Bars you like so much'? He dug further and produced four. "Ah!"

"Where the hell were you?" Sam couldn't believe that Dean was so totally oblivious.

Puzzled, Dean turned his green eyes on Sam pausing mid bite. "What?"

"I woke up and you were gone…" God he sounded really lame, like he'd panicked over nothing, which he supposed he had but he was sure as hell was not gonna goddamned apologise for caring a twitch.

"Dude, you should know by now how totally awesome I am, I let you sleep in."

"You should have woken me." Sam cringed inside, now he sounded like a petulant younger brother which, again, he was. Damn Dean.

"What did you want Sleeping Beauty, a Kiss?"

Sam didn't reply but his silence seemed to fill the glade with accusation and Dean suddenly turned.

"I took a wash, okay." Dean opened his arms in question. "I got standards you know Sammy a duty to keep this body beautiful." It was then the tall hunter noticed that his brother's hair was wet. He felt even more stupid and was about to come back with "But you didn't tell me," when his brain caught up with his mouth and shut it. Instead, in his frustration, he stood, facing Dean fists clenched, watching him stuff the cereal bar into his mouth.

"What? Dean glanced at him, chewing, half his attention on re-packing his bag but also aware that his brother hadn't moved.

Sam knew from experience that Dean would never admit that he'd been in the wrong and why give his sibling any more ammunition to ridicule him with. Dean already thought his little brother was more girlified than he ought to be so Sam shook his head, "Nothing."

"You know," Dean shook the half eaten bar at Sam. "These aren't half bad." He pushed in the rest of the stick filling his cheeks so full he could hardly chew and ripped the wrapper from another.

"You do know that the bars aren't healthy if you eat them four at a time, don't you."

"Need…" Licking his lips and sucking on a sticky finger Dean tried to talk. "…the energy Sammy." Only what came out was a couple of muffled words without vowels in a series of thick grunts of appreciation.

Suddenly the tension fell away from Sam and he laughed out loud astonishing his hamster cheeked brother who failed totally to see the joke.

XXxxxxxxxx

Water drizzled from above in a relentless beaded curtain. Falling from the clouds, the leaves, the branches in a merciless wetness which pattered onto Dean's waterproof then ran in ever gathering rivulets to drip off the bottom edge onto his legs thoroughly soaking him from the knees down.

Dean was miserable. The day had started well and they'd made good progress climbing steadily up the side of the mountain catching only occasional glimpses of a brooding sky. He had been in good spirits despite the lack of sleep the night before and had actually begun to enjoy himself keeping up an easy rhythm as he followed Sam through the forest.

The rain had started as they'd rested after a particularly steep section of trail. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with Sam on an outcrop of rock, legs dangling over edge they'd both gazed out into the foliage in a companionable silence that Dean had not felt in a long time. It seemed to him that all the hassle and angst had been left behind in that Yurt thing. Here there was nothing but him and Sam and the hunt. No bigger purpose, no wider issues, no grey morality.

At the first splat of drops Sam had unzipped an outer pocket on his backpack and donned a dark blue waterproof. Dean's first reaction had been to snort with laughter as his brother looked such a dork all zipped up and swishing with every movement.

He'd declined to wear his own version of the offending apparel until his shoulders were thoroughly soaked and he'd had to admit that the rain in Wallace Falls State Park seemed to be a little wetter than rain elsewhere. Pulling out the cagoule, he'd struggled; the waterproof material refusing to slide over the wetness of his clothes and he'd ended up in a confused knot getting wetter and wetter in the process. Sam had finally come to his rescue but by the time he'd got the thing sorted he was as wet on the inside as it was on the outside.

From there it had gone from bad to worse. The hollows in the uneven ground had filled rapidly to overflowing with the resultant streams washing down the slope making it hard for their feet to grip. Several times Dean had slipped, his foot sliding from under him, putting him off balance and he'd barely managed to save himself from crashing to the ground by clutching at nearby branches.

Up ahead Sam was having just as hard a time, now and again curses rose above the clamour of the rain as his feet slued, scrabbling for purchase and once he'd come to a halt so abruptly that Dean had collided with him nearly bringing them both down.

Bedraggled Dean was beyond miserable now, more pathetically woebegone. "Tell me again why we're doing this?"

"We're saving lives and making the world a better and safer place to live in."

"And what will be our reward?"

"In your case a double cheeseburger, large fries and a beer in a warm dry bar." There wasn't a hint of sarcasm in Sam's reply.

"Sounds good to me." Dean stepped forward only to have his boot completely disappear into a mud filled puddle. "Sonofabitch." There was a disgusting squelching sound and a lot more swearing from Dean as he clutched on to Sam before he was able to drag his foot free. The water was freezing and while his boots were somewhat waterproof the eyeholes for the laces were not and he could feel the trickling moisture tracing ice cold fingers over his skin and down in between his toes.

"It'll warm up soon."

"Thanks a lot Mr cup half full." Dean was not impressed. How could Sam remain so disgustingly upbeat? It never failed to amaze him how his brother could see the good in everything. How despite all the things they'd seen and done all the blackness and evil that was around them Sammy could remain so genuinely agreeable and balanced.

He'd had his dark moments, teenage Sammy Winchester had certainly not been pleasant company looking for something, anything to disagree with and pushing Dean and their father to the limits of their patience but they had come through that. In fact before Sam had dropped the bombshell on their Dad about Stanford he thought they'd all been getting on more than reasonably.

Although Sam hadn't discussed his application to college with his brother, Dean had not been surprised and was secretly pleased, like he was the proud father. Sam'd had the brains and the purpose to make something of his life not like Dean who'd been pulled out of school so often to help his dad on a hunt that he'd barely scrapped graduating grades.

Dean huddled into his jacket trying to ignore his wet foot, his wet legs, his wet back where the water had leaked in between his coat and his skin, and his wet front where the rain ran down his face and dripped off his chin.

"Can't you find us a nice dry cave or something. I don't mind sharing."

Huffing in amusement Sam turned back, "You might not mind cuddling up to a Mountain Lion but I'm pretty sure he would object to your snoring."

"I don't snore." Dean lifted his chin in challenge but his brother only gave that infuriatingly knowing smile and pressed on upward.

An hour later, Dean was beginning to think that he'd humiliated himself for nothing putting on the waterproof and he was sure as heck gonna sue the manufacturer for false claims. He was thoroughly soaked, his clothes cloying, plastered to his body with an uncomfortable clamminess and he was sure the denim of his jeans was chaffing in places he'd rather not think about.

Head down he trudged on even as the sky darkened further and the rain became torrential taking visibility to virtually zero. He was about to call for Sam to wait up when again his foot slipped.

Flailing wildly Dean's hands grasping at branches as he fell, slipping and sliding on the saturated ground; he could hear Sam shouting his name, feel the whip of leaves as everything sped up around him. His body tumbled ripping his pack from him and Dean yelling tried to curl and protect himself but his back slammed into a tree halting him momentarily then he slued to the right feeling the rough bark scrape at his skin as he continued to accelerate downhill. His hip slammed painfully into another tree but his momentum kept him moving and he plunged headlong through the undergrowth, rolling, grabbing, and clawing with his hands desperate to stop his descent.

Suddenly the ground fell away beneath him and he was airborne, branches still clutching at him as he plummeted past. He fell, it seemed to Dean, in slow-motion and all the time with a sickening realisation that he was going to hit the ground; there was no way round it, no other possible outcome and it was going to hurt like hell.

His body crunched onto the forest floor, the carpet of needles and debris failing miserably to cushion any part of him. Only the angle of the slope helped to moderate the impact but it also meant that he continued to careen downhill until a large boulder brutally stopped his progress.

Dean's breath expelled from his lungs in a rushing moan as he slammed into the unyielding surface. Pain exploded, searing through him until the side of his head contacted the rock, bounced and smacked again into the cold hard vertical mass.

XXXxxxxxxxx

Sam felt rather than saw his brother fall, "DEAN!" heart pounding he slithered, skidding back down the path trying to follow the trail of broken branches. "DEAN." He dug his heels into the mud trying to control his slide but the ground was unstable and gave under his weight.

Twisting Sam grabbed wildly at an overhanging branch closing his fingers around its width but his hands slipped on the wet bark and it broke ripping through his palms as his mass dragged him downwards. He desperately grabbed again and managed to catch a slim offshoot. Gritting his teeth against the pain he clenched his fists tight, this time it held him and he hung on.

Gathering all his energy he shouted, "DEAN" and waited but heard nothing but the hiss and splat of the rain. "DEAN." Sam tried again, "DEAN." Fear rose and constricted his throat, his brother was probably lying somewhere below him injured or even worse.

Forcing back tears he admonished himself he couldn't let his imagination get the better of him. 'Deal in facts' he could almost hear his father lecturing him. Squirming, keeping his foot firmly against the base of the trunk he sat up.

What did he know? He knew he could track Dean's fall the flattened foliage, broken bushes and branches wouldn't be hard to follow, beyond that he didn't need to think. His first priority was to find Dean then he could take his bearings and make the next decision based on what he found.

The trees whispered small gentle sounds like singing. Dean didn't stir even though he was awake. He was perfectly happy lying on the ground, with the solid rock at his side, not moving. He didn't want lift his head, didn't want to reposition his arms or legs and he knew he definitely didn't want to sit up. I'll just lie here he told himself as he closed his eyes and listened to the song.

It was full sunlight when he woke again and he watched as a sunbeam crept across the forest floor towards him snailing its way over the leaves and twigs until it touched his hand. He twitched as its warmth infused the life back into his body and along with it the pain.

It was this pain that he'd been trying to avoid. Remembering the fall he knew as soon as he'd woken that first time that he must be injured but lying so quietly so still the pain had been an absent enemy. Now it returned burning white hot down his side, into his hip and hammered at his head.

Reaching out blindly Dean splayed his hand over the rough surface of the boulder, grazing his fingertips over the pitted expanse until they caught held by a thin uneven ledge. Bending his finger ends he gripped and pulled. A moan escaped his lips as the muscle flex turned the heat of the pain into a raging fire but Dean refused to give in and gradually inch by painful inch he hauled his upper body into a sitting position.

Leaning heavily on his right shoulder trying to ease the pressure on his injuries he manoeuvred his legs round in front of him his breath hitching at every drag and strain. Eventually sweat streaming he was sat back against the rock, his rock, his nemesis and his saviour.

It felt like he'd broken several ribs. He prayed that they were only cracked because if broken, what he was about to do was going to be extremely dangerous. One jar, one stumble could force a jagged end of bone into his lung and then there was no hope, not even if Sammy found him, not out here.

Keeping his movements even and small and humming Metallica under his breath Dean pulled his knees up planting the soles of his feet firmly on the ground in front of him. He figured that if he pushed, using his thigh muscles, he could slide his back up the rock then adjust his feet and slide again until he was standing. That was the plan anyway but he hadn't reckoned on his damaged hip. At the first push the pain was so sharp and so intense that he stilled knowing that to move up or back down would be so excruciating that there was a danger he would pass out again.

It was during this impasse that he noted with a soft laugh that it had stopped raining.

XXXxxxxxxx

Sam was on his knees, head down choking back tears. He'd frantically worked his way along the trail finding where Dean's fall had taken him straight on instead of following the path's downward curve. Drawing his knife he'd continued chopping away at the undergrowth, ripping through as fast as he could, anxiously following the line of debris desperate to believe that Dean could be, would be a few yards ahead. Now that belief was gone and despair had descended, robbing him momentarily of intelligible thought.

In front of him was the edge of a cliff and all the indications were that Dean had gone over the rim but it wasn't until he'd lain on his stomach, wriggled forward and peered over the lip that the reality had slammed home. The vertical face fell away at least forty feet possibly even further because he couldn't see the bottom for the dense foliage. How the hell was his brother supposed to survive a fall like that?

Hiccuping breath, Sam sat back on his heels wiping at his damp face, the rain drops on his jacket smearing with the tears. The first rush of raw emotion had abated and now he felt empty, drained of all feeling, numb but he'd made a decision, there was no other way to find his brother than to climb down the cliff face.

Dropping his pack to the ground he pulled it open and searched. He was looking for something brightly coloured, anything that could be seen. He needed an object, a piece of cloth, anything that he could drop down that would show up to indicate at the bottom the exact position where Dean had gone over. Once Sam started his descent there was no telling how far he would have to traverse the cliff face and he needed to know that he could find his way back to start his search for Dean.

Rejecting several items Sam realised that the brightest thing he had in his pack was a blue plastic carrier. Pulling it free he cast about for a large stone, found one about the size of his hand and dropped it into the bag tying off the top. Securing himself he leaned out stretching his arm as far as he could and dropped the bag watching as it fell and disappeared from sight. Then he stood listening to it crashing through the canopy.

Securing his pack once more on his back Sam knelt unlaced and took off his boots. The thick soles while sturdy were useless for rock climbing, preventing him feeling and gripping the surface with his toes. After a moments hesitation he stripped off his socks as well sucked in a breath and lowered himself over the rim feet searching for his first foothold.


	5. Chapter 5

Just to let you know this story is complete and I will be posting a chapter every day life permitting.

Chapter 5

Dean's spirit leapt in triumph he was standing, actually he was leaning but he gave himself full marks for being on his feet, well all right, foot. His right leg held him fine but when he tried to put weight on his left, pain screamed through his hip and side. The first time he tried a step he'd almost collapsed, blacking out briefly.

Breathing heavily with the effort of maintaining his body in an upright position Dean berated himself for not having checked his surroundings, he'd been slacking, injured or not he should have scoped the immediate area for threats actual and possible, it was rule number one …no number two. He blinked trying to remember his Dad's 'Litany for a Hostile Area'. Rule one was …was…Jeez his head hurt.

Delicately Dean pressed his fingers to his temple and felt the large egg swelling under the sticky mass in his hairline. His hand came away bloody. Damn it, he'd been so busy trying to work on standing he'd failed to even consider concussion. He shook his head trying to clear his mind to think straight but the movement caused the quiet throbbing to escalate alarmingly.

There was a path over to his right, a gap between the trees where the fading sunlight penetrated a little further into the forest. Once his head had cleared a little he'd been able to check around properly and it was definitely a path, a track whatever, now all he had to do was get to it.

Dean stood gathering his energy, he still felt like sh*t, his body shivering, head pounding and sickness threatening every time he moved but he fought it knowing that to give in was to give up. He had no doubt that Sam was looking for him but he also knew that it could take hours, also night was coming and Sammy might be good but even he wouldn't be able to track Dean in the pitch dark.

Right now Dean's priority had to be shelter and if possible warmth, the sun had dipped once again below the tops of the trees and his wet body was cooling quickly, he hugged himself as the realisation seemed to make the reality worse. There was nothing for it he couldn't stay and wait for Sammy he had to get himself moving.

Pushing back with the palms of his hand he lifted his body easing it clear of the stone's surface. Standing on his good leg Dean edged himself along the boulder, so far so good but reaching for the nearest tree he slipped, lost his footing slightly and scraped the newly formed scabs on his back. He'd hardly felt the graze at the time it'd happened, he'd been too busy careering downhill but now Dean drew in a sharp breath biting down on his lip as the fresh smart made him wince and the hot wetness of his blood trickled down his back.

The grey colourlessness of twilight had descended by the time Dean reached the point where he thought the path should be. The ache in his hip was constant, radiating up his back and down his leg, worsening, joining the chorus of pain from his ribs every time he took a step but he'd made it, gained the goal he'd set himself. His sense of achievement didn't last long and the deflation, sour coursed through him. Now what? Follow the yellow brick road?

Only his road wasn't yellow it was green and leaf littered and he hoped to hell there wasn't a Wizard at the end.

XXxxxxxxxx

Sam's fingers ached and his calf muscles trembled as he rested, he was more than half way down the face yet the ground didn't seem any nearer. He'd tucked his toes into a crevice and one hand was planted firmly into a crack about a foot above his head but unfortunately although secured to the rock he couldn't relax. He'd only been resting a few minutes but the stress on his clenched muscles was beginning to tell. Carefully he reached out feeling the rock with the fingers of his right hand he needed to find a new hand hold lower down, one that he could grip strongly enough to carry his whole body weight.

Looking down he found again the grass covered ledge about three feet below him. It was too risky to let go of his present position and go for it and too far to reach with his foot before he let go. Adjusting his hold he let his fingers explore the wet rock until they dipped into a crack. He pushed and wormed his hand as far in as he could get, then slowly releasing his grip on the upper handhold he let his body move downward, scraping his toes over the rock as he felt for the ledge he'd seen earlier. Gradually his weight transferred from his left arm and leg to his right hand and toes.

Slipping, Sam suddenly dropped, his heart lurching with the scare but he clenched the hand in the crack feeling the rock bite into his flesh but it held. He dangled precariously for a few moments scrabbling with his feet desperately trying to find the grassy shelf. He slithered further his fingers slowly prising open, losing their grip and slipping from the fissure. He tried to grasp on but he was too heavy and he abruptly lost cohesion falling, scraping down the slab, grazing his skin even through his jeans.

Jarringly his foot contacted with the slick green vegetation on a ledge and he clenched his toes gripping the fronds of grass tightly. His other foot found a thin jagged fault line running parallel to the ground and although it cut into his skin he latched on curling his instep along its length.

Unfortunately his downward momentum continued and swung his body away from the surface. He felt his fingernails rasp and rip as he tried to anchor himself to the rock, his already scratched palms stinging scuffed by the rough mass. Gritting his teeth against the pain he dug into the surface, slivers of rock splintering jamming themselves up under his nails and he managed to pull himself back until his cheek pressed into the hard stone.

Breathing heavily he rested again spread-eagled on the cliff face until he was able to summon the energy and the courage to continue.

Hanging by one arm let himself down the last few feet of rock, careful to the extreme knowing he could so easily make a disastrous mistake if he let up his concentration. Sinking down as his feet touched the ground he allowed himself the smallest pause, the hard unforgiving ridges of the cliff digging into his shoulder-blades as he leant back.

Sighing and dropping his head Sam brushed his sweat soaked hair from his forehead then rubbed his hands over his face, the sweat stung his scratched and sore hands but that was nothing to how tired he felt. He was beat, bone weary and drained yet he couldn't rest, Dean was out there and it was his job to find him.

A cool breeze disturbed the tree tops and kissed his skin; shivering Sam slowly unwound the boots from around his neck and took out the socks. His feet were worse than his hands, a deep cut ran along one instep and his toes were red smeared with blood. Carefully he pushed his foot into a tuft of grass and let the lingering raindrops wash the worst away before he donned his sock. He repeated the action with the other foot and then laced up his boots and went in search of the blue bag.

At the foot of the cliff the canopy above was scant and he could see perfectly well. However, the evening daylight only penetrated a few feet into the forest and even though he'd found the blue bag with relative ease it was with a cold heavy certainty that he knew it was getting too dark to push on. He hated his decision, it went against all his feelings, anything and everything he held dear lay somewhere on that forest floor.

"DEAN!…..DEAN."

There was no reply and desperately so desperately he wanted to rush forward crashing and ripping at the trees but his pragmatic side told him it would do no good. "…a man could be lyin' two yards away from you an' ya wouldn't see him." The words of the Park Ranger haunted him and that was in daylight, in the dark he would stand no chance.

"DEAN."

No pissed remark to 'keep the noise down,' no smirking grin mocked him for being 'such a girl,' no 'Sammy' came back.

Fatigue trembling his muscles he gathered firewood, built a small hearth under an overhang and lit a fire. Then wrapping his arms around his knees he settled against his backpack to wait out the hours of darkness.

Lost in misery he kept his eyes open, staring out, long after the fire went out and the light faded to an impenetrable black.

XXxxxxxxx

It was a hut, a goddamned hut in the middle of the forest. Dean was so surprised that his mouth actually fell open. "A hut." No matter how many times he repeated the words the whole thing sounded, looked surreal, like something out of a fairy story. "Sh*t." He glanced around him apprehensively; been there, done that, got the freakin' T-shirt but no shortbus troll jumped out of the shadows or rolled an extra juicy red apple at him and he let out his breath eyes drawn back to the dilapidated wooden abode in front of him.

The door creaked and swung inward with a judder as Dean pushed. He kept his hand flat on the planks as he peered into the dark interior getting a perverse sense of comfort from the feel of the grain under his fingertips. "Hey, anyone home?"

The thin stream of pale light from the open doorway barely penetrated the murky darkness and the deep shadows encroached as if trying to push back the intruding patch of grey. Dean felt totally uncomfortable sliding in avoiding being silhouetted in the doorframe. He was so definitely intruding on something that he nearly turned and walked away. Except that he couldn't. He was exhausted, it had taken him such an all out effort to get this far and the pain that he'd stoically ignored up until now was beginning to reach that unbearable pitch that no matter how hard he tried he couldn't avoid its clamour for attention. He needed rest.

Gradually, as he pressed his back to the wall his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness and he was able to make out a shape in the corner furthest from the door. It was a fuzzy bundle of what looked like dried bracken piled haphazardly on the floor. So not Snow White's cottage then!

There was no other furniture or signs of occupation except, he saw with a joyful lurch, that there was a stone fireplace and chimney breast built into the back wall. "Yatzi," he breathed and checked his pocket for his lighter.

XXxxxxxxxx

Sam was dreaming, he kind of knew it but it held him trapped in its design and he was unable to extricate himself from the panic and the dread. "Dean." Outwardly he murmured but inside he was screaming for his lost brother.

Gazing around Sam could not see beyond the maze of trees, which extended in every direction around him, all regiment straight and tall, all exactly the same. He tried shifting position walking carefully to his right but when he moved they moved, jostling, creaking, crowding in on him menacingly the leaves rustling a disquiet that had Sam turning quickly to look behind him searching for a fleeting presence.

The wind whipped up fresh and strong, blowing, twisting leaves and dust battering them against his form. It howled, screeching in his ears, stinging his eyes and its icy wash chilled his skin but worse, desolately above the rushing sound he could hear his brother sobbing.

"DEAN!" The name was snatched from his lips. Unnerved, trepidation pricking at his heart Sam shouted again and ran desperate to find his brother, on he ran and on zig-zagging through the tree trunks as the air continued to whirlwind around him, pulling at his clothes and hair and still he could hear the heartbreaking sobs.

"DEAN!" He was crying himself, tears of fear and frustration as he searched wildly through the shifting trees heedless of the branches and twigs, which scratched and ripped at his body.

On the ground Sam's sleeping figure twitched then thrashed struggling to wake from the nightmare. He frowned deeply wrinkling his forehead and tears traced down his cheeks as his mouth moved forming the name of his brother over and over. Suddenly his whole shape convulsed and he woke, eyes staring into the dark.

XXxxxxxxxx

Dean shivered he was cold but that wasn't what had woken him. He'd been disturbed by a movement. Slowly his hand went automatically to tightened on the handle of the knife which he kept under his pillow, a knife that wasn't there because he wasn't in his bed. Pretending to stir in his sleep he rolled, holding in a groan, into a position where he could view the room but he did not open his eyes. Instead he waited, straining his hearing, listening for the sound of activity to come again.

He must have drifted into sleep because when the scraping returned he started awake, jerking involuntarily. No way could he feign sleep now so giving up all pretence he raised his eyelids. The fire he'd carefully banked up before settling down for the night had not completely died down and in its red glow he could see most of the hut's interior.

Squatting on the floor not four feet from Dean was an old man; seemingly tall, skeletal knees up round his ears and naked except for the beard covering his modesty, his deep green eyes glaring directly at Dean.

"Sh*t." Insides clenching with fear Dean instinctively scrabbled, heals digging into the dirt floor pushing himself backward away from the potential danger but it was like a nail gun fired, shoving a red-hot spike of pain into his head. His back hit the wall and his vision swam sickeningly. Falling to the side with a groan, he curled his arms around his pounding head and rocked.

Waiting, pain pulsing in time with his hammering heartbeat Dean lay hurting too much to do more than wait for…for something to happen, but naked Gandalf seemed to be taking his time. Gradually the pain in his head abated and he was able to open his eyes.

The hut was empty.

Bewildered Dean gawked at the space where he'd seen the man. He had seen…he had. Pushing up supporting himself on a trembling arm he gazed around the hut and immediately regretted it, collapsing back to the ground whimpering as waves of heat washed through his body.

XXXxxxxxxx

The morning low cloud mist had collected droplets on Sam's hair sparkling in the dawn grey as he had stood stretching the stiffness from his form.

He'd woken several times during the night pulled from sleep by intensely vivid dreams to find that his brother's cries of distress were still present in the wind surging and rolling about him. His agony that Dean could be only a few yards away had tormented him and he'd had to physically hold onto himself desperately fighting the urge of his nightmare to take off into the dark wilderness.

He'd waited for the light to brighten as long as he could stand it then taking a compass bearing he again set off in search of his brother.

Two hours later he was exhausted and frustratingly no nearer to finding Dean. Added to this Sam had an undefined sense of unease, nothing he could put his finger on but he had that uncomfortable itch between his shoulder blades like someone or something was watching him. He'd tried to ignore it but the feeling grew especially when with no wind the leaves fluttered and rustled suddenly in what was, he realised, an unnaturally quiet forest.

XXxxxxxxx

Wreathed in sweat and shaking Dean lay on his stomach half curled into himself, the mat of dried bracken beneath him crackling and shifting under his restless heated body. Time meant nothing images swam into his consciousness drifting and mixing together disconcertingly pressing him alternatively between hope and despair in a seeming never-ending twist of emotion.

Dean knew that he was ill with fever, he'd been there enough times himself and with Sam and Dad to recognise the symptoms and somewhere in his confused mind he knew he was dehydrated and needed water.

He must have slept or slid into unconsciousness because when he opened his eyes again the hut interior had changed. No longer bathed in shadow it shone. Shafts of pure brilliance blazed through holes in the rotting timber, stabbing light into every corner but far from giving him comfort the dazzling spears of dancing brightness seared into Dean's skull filling it, pressurising and expanding the pain.

He felt like his head was going to explode and he heard himself moan and cry out for his brother but Sam didn't come. There were no strong arms holding him, no soft whispered words and no cool soothing strokes. It ripped at his heart sending moisture he could ill afford to lose tracking down his face.

The rain started again slowly at first then faster, he could hear the drops pattering on the roof. Swallowing his throat constricted, it reminded him of how thirsty he was. He needed water and it was torture to know that it was so near but Dean couldn't make his limbs obey and the effort to move hurt so much that even the act of breathing was a torment.

When he next became aware time had again moved on. Whilst he'd slept the rain had stopped and the sunbeams had renewed their tracing, arcing path over the floor. Dean laid, eyes half-closed, too weak and ill to register the meaning or the significance of their passage. His joints and muscles ached and even though he was shivering he could feel his sweat soaked clothes clinging to him. Finally he moved licking his lips to try and relieve their hot dryness but his tongue dragged harshly across their surface, his mouth devoid of spittle.

"Drink."

The calm voice spoke again before Dean realised what it was.

"Drink."

Slowly he raised his pounding head straining to focus his eyes. "You've gotta be kidding me." By his side was a racoon, live and in the fur, its eyes strangely green glinting and gazing directly at him. Dean dropped his head down thumping his cheek back onto the floor he had to be dreaming or more worryingly hallucinating.

"Drink." The request was repeated.

"A talking racoon," that had to be a first. Raising his head again Dean took another look wondering if the old man had made a reappearance, he groaned, oh God, it had to be the racoon talking. Dean stared wondering what the hell in his past life had resulted in this particular delusion.

"It's rude to stare…"

Dean huffed as he sank back too tired to keep the tension in his body.

"…You should show more respect."

"Jeez, everyone's a critic." Dean felt himself sinking back into his torpor, good, maybe it would go away and leave him to die in peace.

"I have water."

Opening one eye Dean once again had to confront the possible reality that he really was conversing with a racoon. It was then that he noticed that next to the animal lay a curled leaf and inside the leaf was water.

Gazing longingly Dean watched the pool of liquid shimmer. It was so near but it could have been a hundred miles away for all the ability he had to reach it. As if the creature knew what Dean was thinking it bent its head clamped its teeth around the stalk and proceeded to drag the leaf closer, backing off as Dean made a supreme effort to move his hand up to cup its delicateness and drink.

The water was bliss as its coolness filled Dean's mouth and slipped down his parched throat. It felt so good for a figment of his imagination.

"More?"

He'd expected it to disappear, the racoon, the leaf, the water like a mirage leaving him alone returning him to the fever and the pain but the racoon was still there blinking at him speaking to him again.

Yes he wanted more. He hadn't the energy to nod but he felt the leaf tickle his face as it was lifted and he heard the skitter of claws as the racoon crossed the floor to the doorway.

XXxxxxxxx

It had begun raining again and Sam had gotten very wet pushing his way through a bush but on the other side he'd found broken branches stretching down a sharp slope into the forest. His heart gave a leap, Dean!

He followed the track keeping his back to the cliff hardly daring to think that he'd found his brother's trail. It could be, he told himself, that a large animal had passed through. It wasn't until he found snagged on a twig a small piece of slick blue material part of Dean's hated waterproof that he allowed himself a smile.

Sam eventually emerged into a small glade, sky visible above and grass under his feet. Trees shouldered each other around the perimeter with a large boulder lying just inside the circle at the far side. The sparse vegetation in front of it was flattened.

Sam shouted, "DEAN." but his optimism crashed when there was no reply, he tried to comfort himself that he was at least closer to finding his brother but harsh reality was that all he had was a few scuffed footprints.

Inspecting the ground more closely Sam saw the distinctive shape of Dean's boot heel but he was unsure if this was good news or bad. The depth of the print looked like Dean had been favouring his right leg. He followed the tracks and definitely Dean was limping.

At least he had confirmation that his brother had been here and hadn't been so badly injured that he couldn't walk but the fact that his sibling wasn't still in the clearing meant that Dean hadn't been thinking straight.

"If injured, stay put." John's voice echoed but Sam huffed he'd always argued that point with his Dad with a few what ifs but Dean; he'd have taken it on board. It would have taken a pack of wolves to drag…Sam checked around him that feeling of being watched suddenly itching again, were there wolves in these forests?

Shaking his head Sam tried to shrug off the feelings spooking him rationalising that he'd heard nothing and that there surely would have been more signs of a struggle. Dean would not have gone quietly.

Checking the clearing once again he noted that there was nothing to indicate a desperate struggle but there was a definite path between the trees to his right. Sam strode towards the opening, placed a hand on a nearby tree and peered into the avenue of gloom. It was the only place Dean could have gone. He gazed around the empty space one last time. Apart from where he'd followed Dean's trail into the clearing this was really the only and most logical way to leave it.

XXXXxxxxxxx

"You're awake." The racoon twitched its nose.

Dean surmised that he must have passed out because he had no memory of the creature's return but then why would he? If it was a figment of his subconscious and he was hallucinating then when he was unconscious it would disappear, wouldn't it? He hoped so because the idea of it watching him sleep creeped him out.

"I brought more water."

So, his chimera had gone out and gotten more water while he was totally out of it, Okaaay, in the realms of fantasy that made real sense.

"You should drink."

"Thanks for the advice." Dean's voice was a whisper as he crooked his fingers around the brimming leaf left by his head. He spilled some, hand shaking but most seemed to reach his mouth and he swallowed thirstily.

"You're ill you needed it."

"No kidding." Dean felt his eyes closing he was too tired to puzzle out if the animal meant he needed the water or the advice but what did it matter anyway and thinking about it just gave his headache a headache.

The racoon scuffled and scratched thumping its leg rhythmically on the earthen floor. Dean's sensitised body flinched as if each vibration was a physical blow. He wanted to scream at it to stop, to leave him the f**k alone that he hurt like hell but in the midst of his misery there came a noise, low and thrumming. He listened unable to do anything else but found that the melodic regularity soothed him. He began to pay attention, to anticipate its pitch and tone until he realised with a jerk what he was listening to.

"Are you humming Metallica?"

"It soothes you."

Dean had the weird sensation that somehow he was talking to his own psyche and the prospect was frightening. What if he didn't make sense or he did make sense? Sh*t he could really f**k himself up.

He was distracted from his introspection by the creature approaching. It hunkered down on its haunches and cocked its head to one side regarding Dean with its disconcerting green eyes. Then it reached out a paw towards him.

Dean cringed his body away, it was one thing talking to the racoon that was okay, he could handle a talking hallucination but touching that was a whole different ball game.

"Don't."

"You're hurt."

"M'fine."

The racoon's gaze was quizzical as Dean held his breath, then it withdrew its paw and small tremors shook Dean's frame as he relaxed with relief, inside he'd been begging pleading the animal to back off, he knew he was hurting, knew he needed help but more than anything he knew that he really, really didn't want to be touched by a metaphysical racoon.

"I want to help."

Granules of dirt scratched sharply into the skin of Dean's cheek he wanted to lift his head to see the racoon more clearly, fix it with his Winchester stare but his body wasn't a willing participant and he had to settle for subtle repartee.

"Y..you already d..d..id." Dean's words slurred and what he'd meant to say hadn't come out quite like he wanted. He struggled blinking slowly, trying not to let the whole consciousness thing slip away because it left him too vulnerable and the idea that his hallucination would be sitting watching made it all the more unnerving.

Something tickled his face and Dean, surprised by the touch, jerked back realising that he must have closed his eyes at some point and not reopened them. Pain slammed into his body. Having lain still for so long he'd stiffened and his muscles contracting protested at the sudden movement. His hip and ribs were the worst, the dull throbbing now overlaid by a ripping spiked intensity.

The racoon had been snuffling at his clothes and now it was snorting and routing with its nose. Dean's breath stuttered drawn in sharply with shock and pain. The smell of musty damp fur caught in his throat, choking off his protest against the invasion of his personal space.

The racoon smiled, it f**king smiled! "I want to know."

"Kn…now what?"

It sniffed up at Dean's face, its cold nose leaving a trail of wetness across his cheek. Then the muzzle retreated and a pink tongue licked up over its end and around the nostrils. It was tasting him the goddamned thing was tasting him and Dean couldn't prevent the shudder which wracked his body. Yet something inside him needed the comfort, however bizarre the source, welcomed the living touch, took pleasure from the very thing that he'd tried to avoid.

Man, this was some head-trip the whole thing was getting seriously screwy if not disturbingly kinky. Dean's tired mind grasped for the meaning he truly wanted to understand but it slipped away the heat in his body bringing back the nausea and the trembling. He curled, stomach churning, the fever regaining its hold and with a soft sigh Dean let the room, the racoon and his confused thoughts fade.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sam pushed on worried that he'd come across no more evidence of Dean's progress. He'd gone several hundred yards to the left after the path had divided, taking the more obvious route but then backtracked after he found nothing. Checking each side, beating back the bushes he made sure that he hadn't missed anything as he returned to the junction where the path had forked, before he took the left hand branch.

Although the earlier rain had stopped it had left the air full of moisture and sticky with heat. It made Sam uncomfortable, water dripped from the leaves above soaking his already perspiring skin and plastering his hair to his head. Hampered by his wet clinging clothes he struggled on, each step he took rubbing his raw feet sore, the tight tearing of his blood-dried socks breaking open the cuts from his climb repeatedly.

Sam stopped, shook like a dog spraying water droplets from him in arcing lines, then pushing back his hair and sucking on his bottom lip he stepped forward again continuing to scour the ground in front and the scrub at either side of the path. To his hunter's eye the track was noticeably less used than the other, narrow and more overgrown as it twisted off into the forest gloom. His hand went up in an unconscious movement rubbing the back of his neck soothing the sharp prickling feeling which had settled at the top of his spine.

Swinging round quickly he scanned behind him his unease rapidly escalating into alarm but nothing seemed out of place or untoward. Sam turned back still guarded, convinced that that he was not alone and a little weirded out by the sensation. He knew enough not to dismiss these feelings. His 'intuition' for want of a better word had proven all too accurate in the past to ignore but he couldn't stop to investigate now, his first priority, outside of self-preservation, had to be finding Dean; whatever else was out there would have to wait.

He continued on for several yards still troubled by his apprehension and disheartened by the lack any sign of his brother, when some sixth sense made him duck. A shadow skimmed above him, close and Sam threw his arms up protectively crouching ready to ward off a blow.

An owl passed silently overhead. It flew swooping low to the ground then flapping once, gained height, brushing past Sam its wing feathers displacing the air wafting the long strands of hair on the crown of his head. Sam eyes followed the bird fascinated by its stealth and beauty until it settled on a branch, swivelled its head and blinked at him. For a moment he made contact with the wild creature, the green intensity of its eyes pulling Sam in, capturing his interest and curiosity before it was off again disappearing amongst the trees.

The urge to follow it was strong and Sam walked forward away from the main track hardly aware that he'd moved eyes fixed on the spot where... A branch scraped across the back of his hand dragging on his sleeve. Sam pulled himself up. What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to be searching for his brother. About to turn back to the main trail he glanced down and clearly marked on the wet mud at his feet was the heel pattern of Dean's boot. His brother had come this way. Suddenly the eerie feeling was back creeping him out, if he hadn't followed the owl he would never have seen the track… an owl with green eyes, he shook the thought from his mind, he had to concentrate on finding Dean.

Continuing carefully along the threadlike avenue between the trees, glancing back every couple of paces, he searched again for traces of his brother. This time he was rewarded as he spotted more boot imprints near a broken branch and further on scuffmarks. He quickened his pace heartened by the knowledge he was on his brother's trail but cursing the time he'd lost.

XXxxxxxxxx

Tremors shook Dean's frame as he clutched his arms around himself. For a while he'd been barely conscious only aware of the pain and the thirst. The fever still raged through his body but worse now were the cramps which griped at his abdomen making him suck in and hold his breath. Several times he'd tried to sit up knowing that the longer he stayed where he was the more danger there was of him dying. He fought hard but the dizziness, the pulsing ache in his head combined with the sharp physical pain of his ribs and hip had defeated him, taking him back down to the floor to lie in tired, dejected misery.

He swallowed dryly, trying to elicit some kind of moisture. The cool water from the leaf a fading, taunting memory. Dean was, in truth, finding it hard to remember anything so wrapped was his body in his suffering that how or why he had come to the forest had lost meaning for him; the hut becoming his only actuality. However, some part of him remained disconnected and sentient finding the whole thing frightening and surreal because in this actualisation the creation of his fevered mind, the racoon, 'sat' grooming itself not four feet from him in total surround sound smelly vision.

It had left for a while and Dean despite himself had missed it, feeling slightly bereft, irked by being abandoned by his own hallucination but it had returned, shuffling in through the door, settling itself in front of the cold hearth.

There it had remained watching.

The creature was watching him now almost smirking, if racoons smirked. Perversely Dean ignored it, unwilling to acknowledge that he'd formed an attachment, hoping, trying to convince himself that if he avoided looking at it, resisted ratifying its existence either in reality or delusion then his psyche would banish its presence in a puff of disbelief.

It didn't work and Dean couldn't help but view the creature as it rubbed its paws over its ears and head licking them clean, then repeating the movement. Sometimes it chewed, spreading its claws making little sucking and snorting sounds as its yellow teeth nibbled between its toes.

Dean caved in, unable to keep silent. "Dude, take a bath." It came out as a croak and the effort exhausted him.

"You should sleep."

Dean grunted. If his delusion could do no more than state the obvious then they were never going to get anywhere. "Aren't you supposed to say something incisive and intuitive."

"Do you want me to?" Its green eyes blinked slowly regarding him thoughtfully and when Dean didn't reply it continued. "You should show your feelings more."

"Yeah, thanks for that. I love you too." He frowned, s**t had he just said he loved himself? Man this psychosis stuff was confusing the hell out of him.

Body shuddering as another cramping spasm gripped him Dean curled, pain shooting from his damaged ribs across his chest. He breathed as deeply as he dared whilst regarding the racoon closely. What he really wanted was to ask, to beg for was more water but he really didn't know if the water he'd drunk before was real. It had felt real, cool and wonderfully liquid and for a short while it had slaked his thirst but he couldn't be sure, couldn't rely on the fact that he'd actually drunk anything, that it wasn't all some big delusion his fevered brain had conjured up as some sick joke. If it was he wasn't laughing.

"Dean?"

Something, someone was by his side, how had he missed that?

"Dean."

Sammy? F**k his brain had gone into overdrive and given him his brother, hell maybe if he tried hard Megan Fox might appear.

"Dean, you okay? You look like s**t."

A hand brushed his brow, resting lightly, feeling the heat. It felt so good that he almost whimpered when it was withdrawn.

"You're burning up."

He heard rustling and a click but he wouldn't open his eyes. In his head Sammy was with him and he couldn't bear for it not to be true.

"Here drink this."

Something hard and plastic was pressed to his lips and then water drizzled across them running down his neck in cool lines. He parted the thin flaked strips of skin and the wet coolness streamed, invaded his tongue, banishing the dryness, pouring, filling his throat until he swallowed. He opened his mouth for more. It came trickling in but he wanted it faster. Raising his hands he gripped onto the arm in front of him in an attempt to force a river into his mouth.

"Hey, hey steady, come on Dean, you know better."

The bottle was gently but firmly removed despite his moan of protest and he sank back his rush of energy gone.

"Sammy?"

"I'm here."

There was silence while Dean wondered if he dared to open his eyes. What he didn't want was for the Sam next to him, the Sam with the calm voice and the gentle hands to be the racoon. He didn't want to force back his eyelids and see the smirking black banded eyes mocking him. No, he couldn't cope with that.

"Dean?"

Nope he wasn't going to...it could hum Metallica, sound like his brother, give him some more water but he wasn't going to talk.

Hands, paws, travelled around his body causing him to wince as they passed over his bruised torso, moving on to examine the rest of his frame before returning. His T-shirt was lifted slightly but his arms still held tight across his body impeded full exposure. Dean heard the merest suck of breath and a curse but before he could do anything, roll away from the touch or protest a flush of returning heat brought the nausea back with a vengeance. He barely had time to react before he was retching, folding over, the saving water gushing from his mouth and pooling on the floor next to him.

A sound came behind but Dean didn't care, he felt wretched and all in, the frigging racoon or whatever could take a hike.

A hand fisted in his shirt front, pulling him up whilst an arm slipped around his back supporting him, carefully he was leaned forward, bumped slightly and then eased back to rest on a broad chest. Startled at first he struggled weakly but he was held until he stopped, his brain registering or creating, he wasn't sure which, a familiar smell which surrounded him and although he would never admit it he knew the feel.

It was Sam.

Inwardly he sighed and slowly allowed himself to relax into the safe embrace of his brother's arms.

XXxxxxxxx

The dark came quickly as Sam leaned back against the rotting wooden wall, weighed back by the form of his brother. He should really examine Dean more thoroughly and at least strap up his ribs but for some reason he was reluctant to move. Gradually, although he fought against it, he slept ... until something roused him.

The sound came again, a soft grunting and a scuffling scrabble. He tensed but didn't open his eyes. It was obviously some kind of animal judging by the movement but he had no desire to come face to face with it hampered as he was by Dean's body lying across him. Maybe if he stayed still it would leave.

Sam schooled his breathing, listening to the animal as it ambled slowly across the floor towards them stopping occasionally, sniffing before moving on. Focusing his attention on the sounds Sam tried to visualise where in the room the creature was. He'd tracked it as far as the centre of the small enclosed space but then everything went quiet. He held his breath, waiting, straining to catch any little noise which might indicate where or what it was doing.

After several minutes of silence Sam peaked only opening his eyes enough to scan the room. He barely suppressed an involuntary start as the animal a large grey and white racoon reared up in front of him. It dropped thumping its front paws on the floor but keeping its head up tasting the air with its nostrils.

Racoon's were not the friendliest of creatures, Sam knew, they had the reputation of being bad-tempered and aggressive if cornered so keeping very still Sam watched as it came closer, lowering its head, pressing its nose to Dean's cheek. His brother stirred brushing at his face with his hand but remained asleep actually snuggling back into Sam's chest.

The racoon, unconcerned, continued to snuffle at Dean, routing around grunting occasionally until it found Sam's arm then it dragged its cold wet nose over the skin at the back of his hand and up his sleeve. The fur was rough and scratchy but under its chin where it was shorter the heat soaked into Sam's arm. It sniffed again pushing its head further nodding, straining the material.

Suddenly it sneezed shaking violently and covering Sam's forearm with mucus.

He couldn't stop his reaction, snatching his arm back extricating the racoon in one swift movement. If it hadn't been for Dean lying across him he would have risen to his feet as it was he felt trapped, he couldn't defend himself if the wild creature attacked without letting go of his brother.

"Shoo." It sounded weak and felt even weaker and the racoon just blinked. "Get out of here." Feeling somewhat foolish, Sam raised his voice gesturing with his free arm. Dean moaned protesting at the movement. "GET LOST." Sam tried again.

"Dude, not the Waltons again." His brother murmured restless with the disturbance but Sam ignored him intent on the racoon and its green, green eyes.

Puzzlement and an unsettling suspicion glimmered but before he could gather together the threads of his thoughts the animal snorted, turned about and headed out the door leaving the hut empty its sunless, airless interior filled with a musty wet-fur odour.

Sam stared after the animal for a long time until Dean drew his attention by retching, choking and shouting the odds against Bugs Bunny getting it on with Jessica Rabbit. He drew his backpack closer and fumbling found the fever reducers in a zip bag. It was gonna be hell of a long night.

XXXXxxxxxxx

"Man this bed's uncomfortable." Dean shifted something was sticking in the small of his back, something hard, unyielding and buckle shaped. He heard Sam huff a laugh and the constraint around his body released a little allowing him to ease forward. He felt weird, kind of here but not here and his head still ached, throbbing in rhythmic pulses from his temple. He was pleased to note that the nausea had abated somewhat but his mouth still felt like the inside of a yak's armpit.

"We need to ask for a refund." Dean rolled his eyes upward to stare up at Sam or his delusion that was Sam, he still wasn't sure and he wasn't about to rock the boat to find out because right now he needed a brother and his brother specifically.

"You upside down... or I am." He struggled to sit up further but collapsed back with a groan. Sam's arms tightened, probably a reflex action Dean thought, but he stilled throwing up his defences automatically.

"Are you hugging me?" Yeah the Sammy he knew was certainly girly enough to hug but if this Sam was an illusion coming from his unconscious mind then what was this? Was his psyche telling him that he needed more hugs or was there some deeper meaning to hugging that he'd failed to notice? Hell this was more complicated than the damned racoon.

"No." Sam's answer came back quietly.

"That's all right then." Dean smirked inwardly; he'd got the better of that exchange. He paused, well he thought so.

Squirming away from the body behind him, reluctant to settle back however much he wanted to or felt he shouldn't want to; sonofabitch stop with the psycho babble.

Frustrated with his own inability to think he shook his head trying to clear some of the cotton wool in his brain but only succeeded in making it ache furiously.

Scooting back until he leant on the wall to Sam's left he held himself still waiting out the paining pulsing beat which seemed to throb through his whole form. Breathing heavily he opened his eyes and adjusted his body but the hut seemed to tilt alarmingly as he did so and he regretted his decision even more as bands of pain tightened across his chest joining the cacophony in his head. He tried to change his position again to ease the stricture but only made matters worse, and he found himself panting shallowly wishing back the oblivion of his fevered dreams.

Sam's huge hand clamped to his brow. "You okay?"

"Dude." Dean protested he hated being made to feel like an invalid, it made him madder than hell but the solidity of the hand, the comforting warmth and the hard patch of skin on the index finger was so familiar that he half believed Sam was real.

"How you feeling?"

"Peachy."

Sam pursed his lips in a perfect imitation of Sam and patiently asked again. "How you feeling?" It irritated Dean deeply; yeah this Sammy was acting 'real' annoying and he snarked back.

"I feel like crap...you happy now?"

His brother ignored the comment and did not remove his hand from Dean's forehead as he continued to examine his patient with a martyred look that Dean knew so well. It made his heart hurt where was the real Sam now; crashing through the forest probably, looking for him was the answer.

Dean ignored him back in childish pique. If this Sam was a delusion then it didn't matter he was only ignoring himself.

The hand was removed; Sam obviously ignoring Dean's ignoring as he said evenly. "Your temperature seems to have gone down." Dean continued with his ignoring not really knowing how to break off without seeming to give in.

It was true he did feel like crap but not as bad as before. He heard Sam move and the close presence he'd felt subtly shifted. Mildly panicking he squinted, first checking that Sam was still beside him. His brother was busy with his pack and had his back to Dean.

Taking the opportunity to scrutinise the interior of the hut unobserved Dean checked; no racoon. Maybe he couldn't have two hallucinations at the same time? Maybe one cancelled out the other?

The absence of the racoon was both a concern and a relief, he felt lost without it and he realised that in a small way his delusion had brought him some measure of reassurance but why had it changed why was his psyche now producing Sam? Why ...he groaned it was too much; trying to unravel his brain.

"Dean, you okay?"

Goddamnit how was he supposed to explain, 'Oh by the way my psyche came to me as a racoon, brought water and we had a nice chat and now its brought me you to bug the hell out of me as if I didn't feel bad enough.

Confused beyond his ability to think in straight lines, Dean combed back through his memory for any details that would help him unravel his subconscious but everything was hazy. He remembered some parts of the previous twenty-four hours, the water and the talking thing but not much else. Somewhere in there were rabbits and Chuckie Cheese but beyond that he didn't recall much except the dreaded sickness and the acute throbbing of his ribs, hips and head; until Sam.

His breath hitched as he moved again trying to ease the pain but only succeeded in aggravating his injury. Experimentally he flexed the hip joint, bringing up his knee. It was definitely tender and he wouldn't be running any marathons in the near future but he reckoned he could walk out of the forest. If it hadn't been for the fact that he felt like sh**t he'd have been raring to go.

Glancing across at Sam he noticed that his brother was fussing with his backpack. God Sam could be so irritating. Suddenly everything dropped into a kind of place, he tensed leaning forward.

"Sam."

"Uhuh?"

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?" Sam had turned regarding him quizzically. "What?"

"It's really you isn't it?" Dean held the look searching the face in front of him; the hazel eyes weren't green, they weren't green! This was Sam, his real and totally wonderfully annoying brother.

"Who else would it be?"

"No one."

Sam extracted a full bottle of water and a bottle of pills from a pocket. Dean opened his mouth to tell his brother to shove it but a sharp stabbing pain panning across his forehead shut him up. He rubbed his temple.

"Dean, again, you okay? 'cause from here you..."

The pain increased turning from a blunt instrument to jagged knifing. "Sam, I'm fine." His voice croaked cutting off Sam's concern but when his brother offered the analgesia he accepted it, knocking back a double dose, making sure that Sam didn't see.

"You're welcome," his brother replied meaningfully to Dean's unspoken thanks as he repacked the pockets in the backpack.

"Dude you get off on it."

Dean turned away knowing he was being churlish and ungrateful but it had made him feel good, feel better, this was 'normal' him and Sam.

"Dean?" Sam was looking at him frowning. "You sure you're okay, you're grinning?"

"I'm good. Let's get this show on the road."

"Dean we don't have to ..." Concerned oozed from those eyes; hazel eyes.

"Sam did I ever tell you that you have beautiful eyes."

"What!" Sam practically choked.

Dean enjoyed his brother's embarrassed amazement for a few moments before deftly changing the subject.

"What the hell is that smell?"

"I think," Sam was startled out of his bewilderment, "that will be from the visitor we had last night – an honest to goodness racoon."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sam thought his brother was going to faint as his face had turned pale with a sickly tinge of green around the lips.

"Dean?" What the hell was wrong a few moments ago his brother had been teasing him. "Dean."

The silence became achingly long before Dean finally spoke.

"You...you saw it." It wasn't a question and for a moment Sam was at a loss.

"You mean the racoon?" It was perhaps unusual to see the creature way out in the forest; the band-eyed scavengers seemed to favour more populated areas where there were easier pickings. However, seeing the animal could hardly be as earth shattering as Dean's reaction suggested so maybe he'd got it wrong.

"The racoon. It was here?"

So it was the wild animal that had Dean in a cold sweat. "Yeah, it ambled in not long after I found you. It came right up to us sniffing around." Dean seemed to go even paler.

"Did ...did it say anything?"

XXxxxxxxx

Dean was panicking his heart tightening in his chest. The racoon had been real. This fact shattered all his reasoning, all his rationale. _The racoon was real._

"Dean?" Sam was up on his knees. _The racoon was real._ The phrase kept repeating itself echoing through Dean, his breathing becoming rapid matching his pulse, each breath dragged in as it felt like a weight compressing his chest. Sam and the hut and everything receded pulling away from him in a long dark tunnel. _The racoon was real._

"Dean, come on man." Hands rested on his shoulders he could feel their grip but he was fastened into his dread, unable to find a response.

"Dean, DEAN!"

He could see Sam's lips moving but the ringing in his ears drowned out the sound. What the hell was happening? He didn't understand. Then Sam was fumbling in his backpack and holding something to his face.

"Breathe."

A bag covered his mouth and nose. _The f**king racoon was real._ Dean couldn't force his attention away from that fact even when his brother wrapped a hand around the back of his head and forced it forward sealing the bag to his face.

"Come on Dean breathe."

He understood Sam's actions and he tried, god knows he tried but his throat constricted making things worse. He struggled but his brain focused on only one thing; his terror at now knowing the green-eyed, grey-furred, musty-smelling creature had been real.

The elder hunter felt the sweat once again dampen the material of his shirt and he shivered, spots forming patterns in front of his eyes the black patches growing larger, merging as he slipped, struggling for breath, towards the darkness.

"DEAN! Look at me, LOOK AT ME."

He felt fingers under his chin applying a firm upward pressure. Dean's head rose clearing his airway somewhat.

"Good." Sam half smiled at him but the worried frown never left his brow.

"Take a breath in..."

Dean watched his brother's face, confused vaguely aware that Sam was trying to communicate. Then his body took over raking air into his starving lungs overriding the disorientation, asserting, maintaining his life.

"Now out..."

Reaching up Dean clutched onto Sam's arm with numb fingers, not to pull it away but to hang onto something solid, to give himself some kind of grounding in his fogged and dazed world.

"In ...out," Sam paused between each word, repeating the words at intervals, his eyes never leaving his brother's and gradually Dean's breathing eased and the ringing receded. Sam loosened his grip but continued repeating the two words staring concernedly at him waiting for him to finally relax enough to breathe regularly without intervention. He waited, then he asked the question Dean knew he didn't want to answer.

"You gonna tell me what that was all about?"

Dean blinking turned away from his brother gaze, still reeling, how the hell was he supposed to explain the animal offering him water and advice and sitting staring at him with those green eyes. His head couldn't get his around the reality; f**k it made more sense as a fevered illusion.

At least... a sudden thought hit him, the creature might be real but it's talking was an illusion. Dean clung onto that hope. Yes, his delirious mind took hold of something that was there and twisted it making it talk back to him. He could cope with that, live with it even. He relaxed even more, still aware that although it was a kind of an explanation it still didn't sit comfortably; he couldn't get away from the fact that he'd been speaking to a God damned racoon

"Dean?"

Sam wasn't going to leave this one alone but Dean didn't want to share and care and he wasn't sure that he could explain without sounding two sizes of crazy. It scared him that he felt so out of control.

Dropping his gaze to the floor he pushed at Sam's chest.

"Get off me dude."

He knew it was unfair to take his anxiety out on his brother but right now he took a perverse comfort from it as he pulled his legs under his body and pushed himself up.

"Sonofabitch." Standing had been a bad idea. He swayed and blindly swung out his arm to steady himself contacting with the wooden planks of the wall. He noted that Sam remained kneeling and made no attempt to help. S**t! Was his brother gonna go all prima donna and bitch-faced on him. Dean had time to reflect that he couldn't blame Sam before his knees collapsed.

This time Sam caught him, easing him back down to the earthen floor.

"Try not to run before you can walk ...or stand for that matter. Mr. Gump."

"Cute." Dean cut back but the pain in his hip and ribs had been so acute that he gave in and let Sam help him sit up more comfortably without further protest.

XXxxxxxxx

Dean wasn't telling him something that much was obvious and whatever it was had shocked and scared his brother enough to trigger a panic attack. However unless there was an immediate danger Sam could bide his time, getting his injured sibling back down the mountain had to be his first priority

There was one thing that puzzled him; the racoon. What was it that Dean has said? _'Did it say anything?' _It was a strange thing to ask but ... he gave a mental shrug, Dean had been pretty out of it when he'd found him maybe his brother'd had a dream about the animal having encountered it earlier.

Dismissing the racoon Sam turned to Dean. "Let me look at you." He wanted to assess for himself how bad his brother was because for certain Dean couldn't be relied on to tell the truth about his injuries. He'd once walked five miles on a broken ankle and not said anything. It had only been because Dean had passed out from the pain that Dad had known something was wrong.

"I'm fine." It was at that moment that Dean sucked in his breath involuntarily closing his eyes. Damn it why did Dean make these things so difficult?

"Yeah right and I'm your fairy Godmother."

"If the shoe fits..."

Sam smiled that's what he wanted to hear from Dean a little bit of snark. Ignoring his sibling's feeble attempt to bat his hand away he pulled up the sweat stained T-shirt and whistled silently between his teeth. The left-hand part of Dean's torso from just under his arm down and disappearing into the waistband of his jeans was a mass of blue and yellow bruises.

"Ouch."

"You ought to try being on this side."

Lightly pressing Sam felt for the bones underneath the discoloured skin. Dean hissed as the fingers manipulated the damaged ribs.

"Doesn't feel too bad, couple of fractures maybe."

Dean regarded him with sardonic disbelief but didn't dignify Sam's statement with a reply bearing the manhandling in a stoic but obviously martyred silence. Sam was almost tempted to press harder to get more reaction but he took pity on Dean because his brother really did look rough.

Needing to see how far round his brother's back the bruising went Sam, still supporting Dean, leant him forward rucking up the material at the back. The yellow and black, joined by a nasty shade of purple, extended across nearly to the spine. More probing brought curses from Dean and an extra special, "God damn it Sammy," as Sam touched the tender grazes, noting that Dean's restless movements had cracked the scabs from his red irritated skin, causing them to ooze more blood.

It was probably the source of Dean's infection but there wasn't much Sam could do apart from clean each cut thoroughly, he'd only brought a basic first aid kit leaving the anti-biotic pills and cream in the Impala thinking he probably wouldn't need them.

"That bad, huh." Dean pulled down his shirt wincing, waiting for the verdict and Sam realised that he hadn't spoken for several minutes.

"You've had worse." This was true but Sam still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Easing back feeling like a trussed turkey Dean felt the pressure behind his eyes increase. Sam had done a good job of making him more comfortable; strapping him up, stripping off his own plaid shirt, tearing it into strips to bind around his brother's chest but that was old; Dean was used to physical trauma, the bruising, the strains and the cuts, those he could ignore to a certain extent but the curling pain he was experiencing in his head was proving relentless and refused to abate even with all the painkillers he'd downed.

Earlier he'd put the clashing cymbals down to the fever but now his temperature was lower and he was no longer sweating and shaking so much he had to confront the reality that he might have fractured his skull.

Carefully he probed his temple, feeling the swelling, wincing as he pressed.

"What is it?" Sam entering from leafy exterior pushing the door open with his shoulder was immediately alert.

Dean was quick to answer. "Nothing." Too quick as it happened and Sam's suspicion was aroused even more.

"Let me see.

Dean's irritation soared. "It's nothing, can't a guy scratch his head without the third degree." Sam regarded him dubiously, dumped the logs he'd gathered by the hearth and approached. Dean grouched, grumbling his discontent under his breath. He really wanted to shout at his brother and tell him unceremoniously to f**k off and leave him alone but underneath the pain he was scared. He debated letting Sam check him over without protesting but decided that if he'd hurt himself seriously he didn't want to know about it, he changed tack, brightening his demeanour in an attempt to throw Sammy of the scent.

"Sooner we get out of this place the better..." Dean held his hand up expecting his brother to grip and pull but his younger sibling pushed the arm aside, kneeling. Damn it Sammy wasn't going to be deflected.

"Sit still." Sam commanded as he gripped Dean's chin with one hand and used his long sensitive fingers to examine the contusion, deftly feeling around the edges.

"Oww!" Dean pulled his head away sharply making the pain swoop and slam.

"How did you do it?"

Dean mumbled. "Sleeping with my head on a downy pillow."

Ignoring him Sam continued. "What was it, the ground, a tree, a rock?"

Sam's persistence irked Dean even more. "What difference does it make, it still Goddamned hurts." The sick feeling was back and Dean sure as heck didn't want to hurl in front of his brother and prompt another round of questions. He turned away swallowing and then rounded back when the younger Winchester didn't move, irritated all over again at Sam's concern. "And stop looking at me like I've got brain damage, I'll be fine."

"Actually research shows that according to the classic definition of Concussion no structural brain damage occurs it's a functional state, the symptoms are caused primarily by temporary biochemical changes in neurons in the cell membranes and synapses."

"Thank you Doogie Howser."

The fingers were back pressing lightly.

"Mind you that has been recent research indi ..."

"SAM." Patience thin at the best of times ran out and Dean, much as he loved his brother's geekiness, wanted to finish the hunt, get out of the goddamned forest and back to civilisation where his Herculean headache could be negated by copious amounts of alcohol.

"Do you have a headache?" Sam persisted; Dean regarded him with a withering look as if the question was utterly stupid.

"Blurred vision?"

Shaking his head Dean wished he hadn't as the hut's interior swayed alarmingly in front of his eyes.

"Have you been feeling disorientated, confused in anyway..." Dean was about to give negative but green eyes in a band of black suddenly appeared in his mind and a light bulb lit in his mind. Duh, concussion! Of course that's why the racoon had been talking, he was concussed, damn it why hadn't he thought of that… may be because of the concussion? S**t he was going round in circles. Sam broke into his thoughts.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Buoyed by his reasoning, the clutching fear receding, Dean sighed and realising that Sam wasn't going to leave this alone answered. "I head butted a rock...but it came off worse." There was a hint of amusement. Now he had a realistic, plausible explanation for the creature he felt like he'd regained some of his equilibrium.

"Funny." Sam held up three fingers. "How many fingers?"

"Goddamn it Sammy quit it I'm fine."

XXXxxxxxxxx

Dean was behaving oddly, well oddly for Dean. He seemed distracted and definitely evasive and then there was the panic attack. At first Sam had suspected a collapsed lung given the damage to Dean's torso but he'd managed to get his siblings breathing under control by just using the bag; if the lung had collapsed he would have had to apply pressure to the chest as well.

Sam mulled over his observations. The skin of Dean's scalp was discoloured under the dried blood but he'd been unable to feel the bone because of the swelling. Mild concussion could explain Dean's weirdness but if an area of the skull was fractured and depressed it could be causing internal bleeding and if that was the case then Dean was in big trouble. They needed to get off the mountain as fast as possible. He couldn't leave it alone.

"Is your headache at the back or centred around where you hit?" Sam tried to remember the list of symptoms for subdural hematoma and subarachnoid haemorrhaging, while he waited for Dean to answer both were potentially fatal and difficult to diagnose without specialist equipment but there were certain things he could look out for.

"Headache, what headache?"

Sam smiled he didn't think sarcasm was on his list but he mentally ticked irritability. He did, however, note that irascibility was normal where Dean was concerned and could probably be discounted as an indicator if other symptoms were not present. What he was really looking for were changes in behaviour, lethargy, evidence of nausea...

"You feeling sick?" His brother made a disgusted noise.

"Hearing stuff? Seeing things?"

"What! … No."

That had hit nerve the panicked look was back; Sam fumbled again in his back pack while still watching his brother carefully. What the hell was going on with Dean? "You're sure? You're not seeing double or anything." He saw the alarmed look drop from Dean's face but the elder Winchester avoided Sam's gaze as he spoke.

"No."

Sam found the flashlight suspicion burgeoning; Dean was hiding something. Was his brother hurting more than he wanted to let on? That was more than a possibility judging by past experience but Sam had a feeling that this was something else. He'd seen his brother being cagey before but this was different there was a kind of anxiousness to Dean, if he hadn't know better Sam would have thought that Dean was scared.

He held the penlight up and pressed the button. The beam of light hit Dean full in the face.

"Damn it Sam are you trying to blind me." Dean wrenched the flashlight from him twisting it away with considerable force. "Look, I'm peachy. Given that I fell off a very high cliff and had a close encounter with a very large rock, I'll concede a headache and bruising if you drop the..."

Dean's bitching faded and Sam looked up sharply. His brother, mouth open, was staring past him towards the open doorway.

XXXxxxxxxx

The racoon, the f***ing racoon was sniffing around, scratching and nibbling at the floor like nothing. Dean tried to articulate, his arm wavering ineffectually as he unconsciously tried to connect with Sam.

Then his words came out in a rush "Sonofabitch." His hand clenched into a fist, anger now racing through him. This thin had wrung him inside out, frightened that his psyche had done a double flip. Goddamn it he'd been half way to a rubber room before Sam had found him and now there it was in all its smelly glory an irrefutable, corporeal, stick its nose up its ass racoon. The fury escalated in his system fuelled by his relief and chagrin.

"Give me your gun."

"What? No Dean."

"Sam this is not the time to go all f***ing Grizzly Adams. Give me the gun." Head pounding harder Dean squinted his eyes against the pain and held out his hand he was gonna show this …

Sam squared off to him. "Dean, I'm not gonna let you shoot the racoon."

The silence, punctuated by the seemingly unaware creature's snuffling, hung heavily in the stale air of the hut. Sam was eyeballing him, standing his ground, refusing to hand over the weapon. Dean felt annoyed and then immediately censured. Crap, he couldn't think straight with the jackhammer slamming through his brain. He ran the hand he'd held out over his face, he was so turned around he couldn't think straight. This wasn't some demonic monster it was a just a Goddamned racoon. He could feel himself swaying and then Sam's arm was round him, steadying.

"You'd better sit him down before he falls down." The low rasping voice was dismayingly familiar.

Dean blanched and felt his knees give. This time Sam's reactions weren't fast enough and Dean slipped through his brother's arms. The hard ground slammed into his body, winding him, leaving him gasping for air as he rolled groaning from the shock of pain in his ribs. A metallic taste filled his mouth, sh*t had he punctured his lung? He coughed and the violent, involuntary movement sent firecrackers of pain into his head. He coughed again and spat blood wishing upon wish that the blackness of unconsciousness would swallow him up. He didn't want to face this, he wanted everything to go away and leave him alone but the powers that be didn't give him that mercy and through the haze of hurt he heard the racoon speak again.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"My, he's a glutton for punishment that one isn't he?"

Sam had dropped to kneel at Dean's side one hand on his brother's heaving chest the other cupping his head protectively. Concern bit at his stomach as he was torn between his need to help Dean and his hunter's instinct to maintain a cautious watch on the racoon, or whatever it was, as it scuffed its way across the floor.

"Mmmmmm…" The racoon whumphed heavily onto the stone hearth in front of the fire and stretched out its snout towards the meagre warmth. "Fire…it's so pretty…and cleansing," The latter phrase sounded menacing and Sam shifted his weight, readying his muscles but the racoon settled further apparently not at all worried by the presence of the two men. "…I'm drying nicely. Don't you think?" It stood, shook itself and settled again.

The surrealness of the situation suddenly hit Sam and he nearly laughed at its absurdity. The racoon was talking…_the racoon_. No wonder Dean had been so freaked. That's what he must have meant when he'd asked "Did it say anything?" Sam sniggered quietly to himself picturing Dean in a tête-à-tête with the racoon.

"Laugh it up fuzz-ball." Groaning Dean tried unsuccessfully to sit up floundering until Sam, taking pity on him, slipped an arm underneath, pulling him into a supporting hold against his chest. The elder Winchester leant heavily and Sam could feel his brother's quickened heartbeat as Dean, with his breath harsh in his throat, looked wildly around.

"Where'd it go?"

"It's over by the fire." Peculiarly Sam only felt a slight sense of unease at sharing the shelter with the racoon, he'd address the talking part later but the creature had given him no cause for alarm. It hadn't threatened or harmed him or Dean and earlier his brother had been really out of it, alone and defenceless before Sam had gotten to the hut. If the creature had wanted to take them out then it'd had the opportunity several times over.

"What's it doing?"

"Sitting by the fire."

Dean lowered his voice and Sam could barely hear him. "What is it?"

"It's a racoon."

"Yeah I know that." Some of the Dean pissedness had returned and glancing down Sam saw with relief that some of the colour had returned to his brother's face as he continued. "But what is it? I mean its gotta be something right?…not _just _a racoon."

Sam viewed the creature thoughtfully it seemed to have found an interesting smell because its black nostrils were pressed to the hardened earth giving small snorts of air before inhaling. The nose moved and the snorting and huffing continued punctuated by the occasional sneeze.

"What's it doing?" Dean shifted forcing Sam to loosen his grip so that his brother could turn and see. There was still a hint of anger in Dean's voice and Sam felt his brother's fingers grip and twist in his T-shirt.

The racoon lifted its head. "I'd tell him to keep still; it's only going to hurt more if he keeps squirming around."

"What's it to yo… ." Deans breath hitch and Sam felt him still, stiffening with pain. The creature caught Sam's eye and Sam saw a glint of amusement. Echoing silently Dean's earlier 'sonofabitch' the young hunter realised that the racoon was deliberately jerking his brother's chain? The statement was innocent, concerned even but that look… What the hell was this thing? Certainly as Dean so rightly pointed out it wasn't '…just a racoon.'

The creature pushed itself up crumbs of soil dropping from its muzzle fur as a paw swiped down its length. For a long while it sat contemplating them and Sam got the distinct, uncomfortable, impression that he was on view that it was studying them as he was studying it.

Slightly taken aback Sam found that although questions formed in his mind he was unable to voice them.

XXxxxxxxxxxxx

"Sam…" Dean clamped down the clutching panic within him and whispered trying to pull his brother back down so the racoon couldn't hear. That thought in itself was completely crazy but the whole scenario was so beyond Looney Tunes that Dean wasn't going to attempt to apply anything like logic or reason, he just needed to know one thing.

"…tell me you can hear it…tell me it's talking and that I'm not going completely insane."

The racoon's ears twitched and it looked up, not at him but at Sam. "He thinks I'm some kind of hallucination, thought he was speaking to himself."

Colour and heat rose inside Dean flushing his skin and his utter exasperation boiled over. "You…" Dean pointed at the creature. "…Shut up." This thing was ripping him wide open. He was feeling really out of it, the situation kept getting more and more bizarre and now not only was this thing talking but it was talking over him to Sam as if he was some kind of retard.

Dean roughly shrugged his brother away, gritting his teeth as the pain escalated. His vision blurred and for an instant he could see two racoons; twinned green eyes staring at him, mocking his weakness. Another flash of hot pique and the question left his mouth before he'd engaged his brain. "What the hell are you?" He felt Sam tense beside him and had a fleeting sense that maybe he'd gone too far but a fiery indignation pushed that aside. He stood his ground or rather he sat as straight as his ribs let him and stared the creature down.

"Good question." The racoon didn't seem phased by the candour, the tone or the stare but seemed disinclined to answer as it turned shuffled a few steps and stuck its head in Sam's backpack routing again. "That food?" Its voice was muffled. "Not the dry crumbly stuff but that hard brown sweet stuff." It pulled its head out.

"The Candy?" Dean was incredulous, this thing wanted to talk _confectionary_?

"Hmmm I liked that." Its tongue slid over pointed teeth to lick its muzzle. "Got any more?"

"No."

It was long seconds later in the awkward lull of conversation that Dean realised the racoon had been referring to the food he and Sam had left back in the clearing. "You ate the offering?"

"Yeah…why was it meant for someone else?" It cocked its head to one side questioningly but with a slight air of menace.

There was no way Dean was mentioning fairies.

"It's a long time since anyone made an offering." The racoon's eyes took on a distant look. "I remember … in the past, aeons…" It tailed off and Dean found he was holding his breath, waiting, until gathering itself the racoon refocused fixing its green-eye stare upon Dean. "Meagre though yours was I appreciated the gesture."

Dean felt like he'd been praised, admonished and reproached all in one go. Riled he was about to throw back a response when he felt Sam's hand close around his arm in warning. He glanced at his sibling and received a slight shake of the head; obviously Sam thought that now was not the time to challenge the creature. Dean bit back the retort but glowered, first at Sam and then at the apparently unconcerned racoon.

"You sure you don't have any more of that stuff? I can smell…" It was back to foraging through Sam's pack and Dean heard the crackle of a wrapper. The racoon's head emerged teeth clenched holding a corner of blue cellophane.

"What's this?"

"A Granola Bar."

The racoon picked the bar from its mouth and deftly turned it over and over in its paws.

"You have to take the paper off." Sam offered helpfully leaning forward holding his hand out.

Dean incredulous, elbowed Sam in the ribs and widened his eyes trying to send the nonverbal message of, 'What the f**k are you doing?' but his brother avoided his gaze and unwrapped the proffered bar returning its contents to the eager racoon.

The creature retreated sniffing the snack and licking experimentally before biting down into the soft malleable cereal. It chewed, jaws moving side to side in a grinding action occasionally flicking its tongue out to catch the detritus filled saliva along the line of its teeth. It was disgusting but Dean found that he couldn't look away.

"I like an audience but not usually when I'm eating."

"Sorry." Sam's apology was a breath and Dean felt a tug on his arm. He shook it off, angry all over again giving Sam another 'What the Hell?' look but he caught the warning in his brother's eyes and slumped back without further protest. Dean let his body relax slightly leaning on the wall behind him. The movement pained as much as the effort exhausted him and slowly his head thumped back onto the wooden slats as his eyes closed.

XXXxxxxxxxxxx

The interior of the hut was getting cold. The sun had set some time ago and the lengthening shadows threw dark ominous shapes across the floor as Sam sat watching over his brother.

He shivered and finally, stiff and aching, ventured across the floor to re-kindle the ash-covered sticks in the fireplace. The racoon had been gone for about an hour but Sam had been reluctant to move too far from Dean or to give anything on the outside any indication that the hut was occupied but the cold had finally gotten to him and he knew that Dean was going to need something warm inside him so he decided to risk a small fire.

Working methodically Sam cleared the hearthstone already having made the hard decision to stay another night in the sparse shelter. He had his reservations about the safety in doing so but knew there was not enough light left in the day to hike out of the interior and his next instinct, to get as far from the hut as he could in the dusky twilight, had to be abandoned because Dean needed rest and was in no shape to walk far let alone spend a night on the damp forest floor.

Reaching for a stick Sam bent the green wood around his shin and managed to rip it into a length he could use. His knife lay snug against the base of his spine but he didn't want to dull the blade with the mundane task. He split several more twigs then searched out the matches he'd carefully stowed in a waterproof container. Dean had kidded him about being such a Boy Scout and how Sam had always needed to 'be prepared' but Sam had taken the teasing without comment. He glanced over at his sleeping brother wishing he was awake to see who had the last laugh.

Sam noted how pale his sibling looked, lines of pain etched across his slumbering features. Dean's body was hunched in on itself arms protectively around his torso, his breathing, shallow. It was a bad position to sleep in and Sam knew he should wake Dean and get him to lie down but he decided to wait until he'd got the fire going.

Sam turning back set sticks around some splinters of log and struck a match. The kindling took a little coaxing and he had to blow gently for several minutes but eventually the wood caught and a thin trickle of smoke trailed up to the roof timbers.

Sam sat back satisfied with his efforts.

"You gonna call room service or shall I?"

Dean was awake. "You're awake?"

"Obvious much." His brother shifted uncomfortably and Sam heard Dean cough, gasp in a breath and cough again.

Sam turned his concentration back to the fire, listening intently. Dean wouldn't thank him for noticing his pain but that didn't mean that Sam would ignore the signs. Gathering every ounce of casualness he reached into his backpack. "Want some soup?" Sam fished out two rectangular tins and several packets. He selected dried vegetable flavour. "Vegetable or Chicken?"

"You don't have a cheese burger and fries in there do you?"

"No," Sam laughed, "but I've got…." Sam reached into his backpack.

"Sam if you say Granola Bar I swear I'll start swinging."

"…some Trail Mix." He held up the bag.

"You've gotta be kidding me, didn't you pack anything that can remotely be called food?"

"Dean this is a highly nutritional …"

His brother grunted irritation showing all over his face. "Sam shove the home ec lesson."

Sam shoved it and lapsed back into silence, preparing the soup then adding more sticks to the fire. Staring unseeing into the darting flames, his mind weighed his options, mulling over, calculating his next move.

Since Dean's fall all his attention had been focused on finding his brother and then when he'd found him on fixing him up. The hunt had become secondary and still was, his priority being to look after Dean but as he considered his options he realised that he couldn't ignore the threat because whatever it was that was killing people was still out there between him and Dean and civilisation…and that was without adding the racoon into the equation.

XXXXxxxxxxxx

Pain penetrated Dean's sleep state insinuating itself into his dreams, wrapping itself around his body escalating the throbbing hurt until it couldn't be ignored. Earlier he'd fought against the rising tide of lethargy trying to prove to himself and Sam that he was fine but eventually a heavy weariness had crept up on him closing his eyes and dragging him down into a fitful sleep. Now he struggled to remain cocooned in the warm drowsiness which allowed him to believe he was alive and ready to kick-ass.

To wake meant cold, stiff pain and the knowledge that he probably owed his life to a talking racoon. He let these thoughts itch not fully acknowledging them but not banishing them either and then as he vaguely felt Sam leave his side he allowed himself to drift into full consciousness.

Sam had his back to him and was breaking and arranging sticks to make a fire. That was good? Wasn't it? John's voice invaded Dean's fragile composure curt and authoritative. 'Never light a fire unless it's absolutely necessary.' Rattled Dean fought against the automatic criticism he should have voiced, knowing that his brother knew the rules and realising that Sam must think the need for a fire outweighed the risk. It took a few moments for him to realise that he was probably the cause of Sam's concern.

The flames flared catching on the tinder and the pain in Dean's head burned with the same ferocity, crackling and sparking behind his eyes. He squinted and strived to make his next words light. He went for animated too but the effect wasn't quite what he'd wanted.

"You gonna call room service or shall I?"

"You're awake?" Sam turned towards him.

"Obvious much." Nothing got passed Sam. Dean had the decency to feel bad at this uncharitable thought but covered his guilt by trying to move, easing his hugged embrace to straighten his body from its slumped sleeping position.

The movement irritated something deep inside his chest; he felt the muscles spasm and was unable to prevent the eruption of a cough. He clutched at his chest, arms tightening trying to prevent a second explosion of pain as his diaphragm convulsed again. He tried to breathe through the torture but that required expanding his lungs and that hurt. He tried to concentrate but the whole thing had increased exponentially the pressure in his head, sending the hammering at his temple, pounding outward in rippling arcs.

"Want some soup?" Sam was rummaging in that friggin' bag again. "Vegetable or Chicken." How much stuff could one person have packed in such a small space? However, Dean who had been holding his body tense waiting for the agony to subside suddenly realised that the sick feeling had left his stomach and that he was in fact hungry.

"You don't have a cheese burger and fries in there do you?" What he wouldn't give for a nice juicy burger, preferably ground racoon.

"No," Sam laughed, "but I've got…." Sam reached into his goddamned backpack. Dean was beginning to hate that thing.

"Sam if you say Granola Bar I swear I'll start swinging."

"…some Trail Mix." He held up the bag.

"You've gotta be kidding me, didn't you pack anything that can remotely be called food?" What did Sam think he was _a squirrel?_

"Dean this is a highly nutritional …"

All Dean could manage was a grunt and "Sam shove the home ec lesson." What he needed was food, real, greasy, bad for you food with an order of bacon on the side not berries and nuts.

His brother went back to his imitation of a chef de cuisine, emptying the contents of the packet soup into a small tin and adding water. Dean mused that Sam had never acquired the subtle art of fine cooking; he'd improved, as the meal at the yurt had shown, probably under Jessica's tutelage, but somehow he never 'got' that food was supposed to taste good as well as _be_ good for you.

Dean sighed and prepared himself for reconstituted soup made with rain water. Slowly, warmed by the fire, he felt his body relax until he realised that something was missing. Warily he checked the interior of the hut. No racoon, fantastic, he couldn't face confusing verbal sparring while he ate. It would give him indigestion and be way too much effort in his present state. Besides, he still wasn't sure exactly where he stood on the whole talking animal issue.

"Here, eat this while it's hot."

Jerking awake Dean blinked. "Huh." He must have fallen asleep.

"The soup." Sam held the tin out holding it carefully with a sweatshirt, no doubt, thought Dean snarkily, something else his brother'd had stowed in that bottomless bag. Gingerly he straightened and when his pain-o-meter only went up a couple of notches he held out his hands and Sam placed the steaming mixture, shirt and all, into them.

The smell alone had his salivatary glands drooling and he took a sip, mentally lamenting that his life had brought him to the point where a bowl of soup was the best thing ever.

XXXxxxxxxxxxx

Watching Dean wolfing down his portion of the mean meal with satisfaction Sam savoured his own much smaller helping, sipping slowly making it last as long as possible. He'd saved only enough for himself to feel the benefit of its warmth in his stomach; his brother needed the nourishment; walking out of the forest was going to take a lot out of him especially with his injuries.

"S'good." Dean gave grudgingly managing to smack his lips with his mouth full, then tipped the tin and poured more in. Sam watched him affectionately; food never failed to put Dean in a good mood. His brother seemed to be regaining some of his composure and although he still looked pale and pained he was more animated and alert than he had been.

Mid swallow, with a sudden lurch of fear, Sam glanced towards the hut door, his attention caught by a movement but it was only a leaf blowing in the draft and he let out a silent sigh of relief. He'd thought it was the racoon returning and he wasn't ready for that yet he wanted to talk to Dean before the creature made a reappearance; although he wasn't quite sure what he was going to say or how he was going to say it. Their visitor seemed to have an unsettling effect on his brother and Sam wondered not for the first time what the creature and his brother had talked about to have spooked Dean quite so thoroughly.

"Dean."

"Mmm" Dean scraped his finger around the inside of the tin and stuck it in his mouth before he looked up. "What."

"The racoon."

"Don't wanna talk about it."

"Dean…" Sometimes Dean was so exasperating. "…We need to …"

"SAM don't go there." His brother clunked the tin onto the floor and folded his arms across his chest, which would have been a great final gesture if he hadn't winced.

Immediately Sam was next to him. "You hurting?"

"M'fine."

"Let me see." He reached out.

"M'fine …s'the same as last time you looked." His brother tried to back up but the wall behind stopped him and again he grimaced. Sam withdrew his hands, he didn't want to force Dean and there wasn't really much else he could do but he felt he should do something.

"D'you need more painkillers?" Dean's nod was almost imperceptible and Sam, happier, decided not to say any more. His sibling's acceptance of analgesia proved that the pain must be really bad and he handed over two small white pills and a bottle of water.

Dean took a swig and Sam took advantage. "I think the racoon's a spirit." His brother spluttered spraying water everywhere.

"A _ghostly_ talking racoon that's all we f**king need."

Shaking his head Sam tried again. "No not a spirit, a spirit."

"Huh?" Obviously Dean wasn't following him.

"An entity, a kind of forest deity. It's often seen as a tall thin old man with…"

"NAKED GANDALF."

"What?" Sam was startled by Dean's triumphant shout.

"Naked Gandalf I saw naked Gandalf …here…in the hut." Despite knowing that there was no one else in the shelter Sam craned his neck round making a visual sweep of the interior.

"He was here, sitting..." Dean forgetting his injured ribs and hip in his excitement surged forward pointing to the middle of the floor, "…there." He fell back with a groan hugging himself. "I thought I was seeing things…you know."

Staring at the spot Sam tried to form a mental image of a naked Gandalf and failed miserably.

"And his eyes…his eyes…they were green." His brother was appealing to him wanting Sam's acknowledgement that he wasn't, hadn't been going insane.

"I saw an owl with green…" Pieces of jigsaw began to slot into place in Sam's mind. The owl, the racoon, the old man – it was a shapeshifter, no…not a shapeshifter in the true sense but something that could change your perception, appear as different creatures. "The old man, the owl, the racoon they're all the spirit… Crap."

"Crap, what? Why crap?" Alarmed Dean searched his brother's face. "Sam. Why crap?"

"I read that it can appear as plants."

"Crap." Dean got it; this thing could be a tree, a leaf, a blade of grass anything.

"Some reports say that it can appear as a large talking mushroom."

"Now you're yanking my chain."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Dean never thought he would be thankful for a talking racoon. Jeeze if he'd woken to a giant chattering fungi then he really would have lost it big time. Obviously, he concluded, it was all a matter of degree; insanity or total insanity.

Looking up Dean found Sam eyeing him suspiciously, "You didn't…see…the…er mushroom, did you?" Sam enquired leaning forward.

Dean provided him with a very quick, "No," but Sam didn't acknowledge his negative and was still talking.

"I have a feeling…"

Dean had to make a real effort to listen, his mind kept wandering, thinking about those green eyes staring out, blinking at him from the milky white stem of a giant mushroom.

"…that this thing," looking distinctly uncomfortable Sam swallowed and finished in a rush, "…might be what we're hunting."

Well that figured. It couldn't be something simple like a Wendigo; Oh no it had to be a shapeshifting, green-eyed divine being with a fondness for cryptic remarks and Granola bars. Dean suddenly felt a sense of irony explode over him as he processed the significance of Sam's words. Not only were they hunting something that could look like anything but also the very thing that had probably saved his life.

"You sure?"

"From what I can gather and there's not a lot of lore, basically the spirits are guardians, looking after the forests that they inhabit including the creatures and plants, defending them from harm. There was a tale of them kidnapping young women but normally they stick to playing tricks on humans, imitating voices, luring them off the path, getting them lost stuff like that. Oh and…" Sam was beginning to warm to his subject and Dean detected a note of excitement from his brother. "…They have been known to tickle people almost…to…death…" He stopped and Dean realised that the look he had on his face must reflect his inner sense of disbelief. Sam swallowed and continued. "…but this one's… seems to have taken…"

"… to ganking blundering hikers." Dean finished for him.

"It would seem so." Shrugging Sam set more twigs onto the glowing embers of the fire and Dean could almost hear his brother's giant brain grinding to a halt. Dean half watch thinking of some of the types he'd seen strolling up to the falls, "Mind you anyone who gets their kicks wandering around dense forest probably deserves …"

"DEAN! …" There was a warning tone in Sam's voice which made Dean cut off his diatribe before he'd really gotten going. He followed Sam's gaze and found himself once again face to face with the racoon.

"Hey Rocky you're back." Dean commented rather unnecessarily but it covered the sudden cold dread which spun through him. Even though he knew now that the thing was real he couldn't quite shake his earlier apprehension, the uneasy feeling that somehow it was judging him.

The racoon ignored him, sniffing the air raising its wet snout sucking in the aroma of the soup. "Mmmmm what's that? It smells good."

Dean saw Sam look helplessly at his tin. "It's vegetable soup but there's only a bit left."

Brushing past him in a waft of damp feted fur, bumping his leg with its ample behind the racoon almost ran across the floor, knocking the tin from his brother's hand and slurping with relish what was left of Sam's meal. Sam made a bitch-face and Dean nearly laughed out loud finding it extremely amusing now that he, for once, wasn't the cause or recipient.

The pink tongue laved the rim of the tin as small paws twisted and turned the receptacle expertly. "Any more?"

Sam paused as if he didn't quite know what to say. "er…No."

"Shame." It settled grooming its whiskers like some large cat, running its claws along their length licking them clean then allowing them to spring back to their original position. Finishing the racoon looked up and grinned or grimaced, depending thought Dean on your point of view, curling its lip back and bearing all its teeth.

The effect was rather disconcerting and Dean felt even more uncomfortable than he had before. What did it want? If it was the thing they were hunting then why were they still here? Did it treat all its victims to this kind of consideration before killing them, if so why and if it didn't what made him and Sam so freaking special?

Dean groaned inwardly as the racoon continued to gaze at them curiously. He felt trapped like some captured rare specimen that was about to be dissected in the cause of science. He was about to voice something along the lines of this opinion when the racoon spoke again.

"I think…" it mused after another awkward silence, "…that I'm gonna enjoy keeping you close."

Its words didn't make Dean feel any better; hell it sounded now as if it was gonna keep them on a leash like a couple of pets.

"Yeah having you around to worship me could be just what I need."

The muscle in Dean's jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together. It was a good thing he'd lost his gun and knife because despite the fact that, one, he was slowed by his injuries and two, there may have been dire, possibly unforeseen consequences, he would have tried to ice the creature where it sat because there was no way, ever, that he was gonna worship anything that smelled that bad.

XXxxxxxxxx

Sam had seen Dean's reactive movements, subtle though they were, the pursing of the lips as teeth clenched, the drawing up of muscle, the whole change in tension of his brother's body and he swiftly moved to intercede.

"You miss your followers?"

He'd picked up on the racoon's earlier comments and was forming a theory that possibly the reason he and Dean were still alive was the offering. That his 'Well it couldn't hurt' had somehow saved them from a swift and probably painful death but they were standing on a knife-edge and if Dean did anything to unbalance the current situation then…

The Creature sighed. "I do, I do…that's why it's so nice to find one such as yourself in amongst all the dross." It looked pointedly at Dean.

Not quite sure if he felt entirely comfortable at all of humanity being called into question and that he'd been singled out even above Dean, Sam decided that at this wasn't the time to…

"Hey watch who you're calling dross." The lightness was there in Dean's tone but underneath Sam detected the animosity. Sighing inwardly Sam tried to forestall any further comments. Dean going off at the racoon was not going to resolve anything. "Dean…I think…"

"Last time I looked racoons were vermin." Dean's face taken on a flushed look and he'd pushed himself up to standing, grimacing against the pain.

The racoon huffed rearing up on its hind legs. "And humans are a destructive malignancy on the face of this earth." Sam didn't miss the fleeting look of triumph as the racoon spoke and he realised that it was being deliberately provocative, testing them seeing how they'd react? If that was the case then it was going to find out really quickly what his brother thought.

Sam rushed towards his sibling, who had made to move forward towards the racoon fists clenched. "Hey, hey…Woah there…" Dean never made it; his right leg gave out as he transferred his weight and he fell.

"Dean." He was too late and his brother hit the floor with a pained cry.

"Is he okay?" The racoon enquired innocently, sniffing forward.

Sam found his own anger rising, it was obvious that Dean had taken offence at the creature's 'dross' comment and yet it had intentionally continued in the same vein inciting the elder hunter to anger. "Back off." The freaking thing smirked but it retreated slightly sitting on its haunches observing as Sam turned his attention back to his brother. "Dean?" Gently he tried to uncurl his brother's tensed form. "Hey, Dean, come on… you gotta help me here okay?"

Getting no response he pushed harder and flinched as his brother cried out again. "I'm sorry bro but I gotta see if there's anymore damage." He leaned over reaching to tuck his hand under his sibling's body and was horrified to see thin trickles of blood coming from Dean's mouth and running down his chin.

"Dean, DEAN."

Scooting around his brother's stricken figure Sam knelt and gently felt under the dirtied T-shirt pressing down firmly on the already bound ribs. Dean jerked and moaned pulling his arms tighter around his body, trapping Sam's hand. "S'okay Dean I gotchya. I gotchya." He was hardly aware that he was echoing his brother, using the very same words that the elder hunter had often used to comfort him.

Sam, fearing that his brother really had pierced his lung this time shifted his weight managing to gently ease Dean further onto his side but even that small movement had Dean coughing and more blood flooding from his mouth.

XXxxxxxxx

Sharp needles of jagged pain shot through Dean as his hip protested giving way at the critical moment plunging him to the floor. A cacophony of other hurt ricocheted through his body as first his torso absorbed the impact jarring his ribs and then his head caught in the whiplash of movement banged painfully on the floor.

He lay enveloped in a swathe of agony, shaking with the shock, uncaring of anything or anyone around him. In the distance he could hear Sam calling his name but he couldn't rouse himself from the heavy blanket of pain.

Hands moved riding under his shirt, pressing and pulling, every touch a torture. He instinctively drew his arms tighter trying to hold everything taut against the pain but a warm liquid trickled down his throat and he choked, coughing, trying to drag air in while at the same time expel the fluid obstructing his gullet.

A hot metallic taste filled his mouth as blood spewed out rippling over his chin and he heard Sam again and something about the fear and urgency in his calling permeated Dean's haze.

"Dean! Come on, come on. I need you to talk to me."

"Sammy." His tongue felt huge and sore, more blood washed over his lips.

"Oh God Dean…" Warm fingers stroked his cheek and he managed to flutter his eyes open.

"Sss'okay…Sam" Dean tried to smile but it hurt. "S'not …ribs…bit my tongue."

"You bit…" Sam's smiling face swam into Dean's field of vision but was abruptly replaced by a view of a mop of dark brown hair as Sam dropped his head to his brother's chest in relief.

"Sammy… dude, your ginormo head's damned heavy." It cost him a deal to say even that short a sentence but he couldn't let on how much that small contact had hurt him, not to Sam and certainly not to the sonofabitch racoon which was no doubt enjoying every moment of his discomfort.

His brother's head came up again, " … sorry," he grinned down at Dean. Sam looked tired but it cheered Dean to see the dimples appearing as his younger sibling smiled. Sam might be stressed, be a pain in the ass but he always came through and he always had Dean's back.

Lying as still as he could Dean wished that the sickening swirl of the room would settle to a gentle sway before he had to hurl and set off the whole pain thing again. Gradually, he had no idea of how long it took, he was able to distinguish, feel the various separate parts of his body through the general melee of hurt but on reflection he wasn't sure if that was such a good thing as each individual pain seemed to clash into another.

Groaning, head tight-banded in pain, he experimented by flexing his leg but the jolting electric agony radiated again from his hip making him suck in a quick breath. The sudden expansion of his ribcage ripped more pain sharply through his chest cavity and renewed itself with every subsequent breath he took. Jeeze, Dean allowed himself a small piece of self-pity, even his little toe hurt.

"Dean, you okay?" Sammy was fussing.

"Awesome, Sam just totally awesome."

It came out harsher than he meant. He wasn't really irritated with Sam this time more annoyed at himself for being so helpless and pissed at the pain for hurting so much. Venting didn't really help much either he still felt like crap and now he felt guilty for taking it out on his brother.

Arms slid under his back and Sam's muscles bunched as he heaved Dean's upper body from the floor into a sitting position. He shifted his grip and Dean hissed.

"Sorry."

Dean wished Sam would stop apologising but the snark he prepared in his head fled as his brother changed his hold again, tugging at Dean and sliding him across the floor. Even though Dean knew his sibling was trying to be careful the painometer soared and he couldn't help gasping as his body shifted on the hardened earth.

"Sorry Dean…" There Sam went apologising again, "…s'gonna hurt a bit until I can get you settled."

"No k..idd…ing Sher…lock."

XXXxxxxxxxx

Sam'd almost forgotten about the racoon, relegating it to a background awareness as he dealt with Dean - until it spoke.

"He okay?"

Startled he couldn't stop his body jolting as his heart thumped hard against his breast bone. The creature was close, right at his back, directly between him and Dean and the wall.

"I should think he'd be better over there, more comfortable." It cocked its head indicating the pile of dried vegetation in the corner.

"I'm fine… don't …need sp..ecial treatment." Dean weakly gripped Sam's upper arm and attempted to pull himself up but Sam could see the pain detailed in his brother's face.

"Dean, you're anything but fine."

"Listen to your brother…"

Sam's arms tightened, pulling Dean into his chest in alarm as the racoon's furry face materialised over his sibling's shoulder.

"…He gets my vote."

Its nose grazed the skin on Dean's neck and it snuffled wetly.

Dean jerked, twisting away trying to face the racoon and Sam felt his brother tense. "YOU…d.. don't… get a say…" Dean managed before he fell back into Sam fighting for breath, sweat beading on his forehead.

It only took a few moments of debate and even though he hated to admit it Sam realised that the racoon was right. Summoning up his energy he lifted his brother as best he could and staggered the few yards across the interior to deposit his charge as carefully as he could on the bed of bracken. Dean would be better on the dried stems they would protect him from the damp of the earthen floor.

"D..dude I'm n…not an invalid." Dean made as if to get up but Sam pushed him back down.

"Stay put." He followed up his words with a glare putting all the stern authority he could muster into the look. Dean comically opened his mouth then closed it again but stayed put, head dropping back to rest on the scratchy foliage.

Pleased that his brother had given in so easily but concerned for the same reason Sam retrieved his backpack and a bottle of water. Unzipping the medical kit he extracted two painkillers thought again and added two more. Dean needed a substantial hit, he'd fallen twice and probably managed to undo any good that Sam might have accomplished earlier. At least they could keep the pain relief topped up; Sam checked the number of pills, for the next forty-eight hours or so.

"Here."

He handed the tablets to Dean who looked up at him quizzically silently querying the amount of analgesia but then made no complaint and pushed them into his mouth grabbing the bottle of water from Sam to flush them down.

"That's not gonna do any good." The racoon sounded weird and when Sam rounded on the creature he realised it was because the animal had its teeth clenched around several leafy twigs. It spat them out and retreated raising its head to gaze up at Sam.

"Brew those, give him a dose now and then again in a couple of hours. This one burn on the fire and waft the smoke at him."

Surprised, not realising that the racoon had left the hut let alone returned, Sam went to reply but the creature shuffled away turning quickly and was out through the open door grunting softly leaving him open mouthed and frankly baffled. One minute the thing was goading Dean, pushing his buttons trying to provoke - what, he wasn't sure - next it was trying to help him.

Grimacing Dean raised his upper body so he could see. "I'm not …" his breath hitched, "…taking anything…" he fell back, "…that sonofabitch…" he closed his eyes. "…has given..." After a few moments of waiting Sam leaned over to find that his brother had passed out. Checking Dean's vitals Sam satisfied himself that there was no immediate danger and threw his waterproof over the injured hunter before the cold night robbed him of what little warmth he had. Dean could do with all the sleep he could get.

Although reluctant to leave his brother's side Sam knew that the coat was not going to be enough as the night drew down he needed to get the fire going again. Sitting cross-legged next to the smouldering remnants in the stone hearth he lay on some small twigs and blew gently encouraging the glowing embers to catch on the new fuel. Ten minutes later heat from the flames flushed his face as he added more, thicker branches and finally allowed himself to relax a little.

Only then did he take up and examine the racoon's proffered shoots.

XXxxxxxxxx

Wrinkling his nose Dean squeezed his eyes shut tighter than they already were. There was a smell. He took a tentative sniff. The aroma hit the back of his throat and his eyes watered.

"What the hell Sam," he croaked, "It smells like a skunk died."

He heard his brother laugh, giggle really but Dean dismissed it; however girly he might be, Sam didn't giggle.

Cracking his eyelids open Dean craned his neck searching and sniffing until he saw Sam silhouette in the red glow from the fire.

"Sam?"

"Hey Dean." His brother turned towards him and giggled again.

"Sam?…" Dean struggled to sit up hardly able to believe the suspicion burgeoning. "… are you high?"

"Yeah…" a huge grin slew across his brother's face, "…think I might be." Smoke from the fire rose curling as it floated up towards Sam's face. "S'pretty good stuff, bit more potent than I figured but…" He left his sentence hanging as he wafted the cloud of vapour in Dean's general direction waving his hand back and forth several times.

"Sam… you know what this is don't you?"

Sam nodded, "Uhuh." Then he smiled teeth, dimples and all. "S'weed."

"Where the hell…" He never finished because he knew where; the Goddamned racoon.

"Oh hey…" Sam taking the hand that had been doing the wafting and being overly careful he lifted one of the small metal tins, "You gotta drink this," leaning forward Sam swayed as he stretched out his arm spilling some of the liquid. "Ooops." He giggled again putting his free hand over his mouth.

Blinking Dean watched Sam weave, brow furrowing with puzzlement. How could his brother have let his guard down like this? He struggled for a while until with a final effort he worked out what his brain wanted him to say and with his tongue still feeling tender and huge he managed to stumble out. "Sam, we're on a hunt!" He put all the indignation he could into the word 'hunt' but the effect came out as petulant.

"S'good for you Dean... you neeeed it…" Then Sam's face went all serious. "…couldn't walk you out like you was…an' I can't carry you that far…"

The truth of what Sam was saying hit Dean like a punch in the stomach and he found that he couldn't disagree with his brother's logic. He needed to be mobile, however dangerous and foolhardy the cure might seem.

"Think of it s'medicine." Sam urged the container on to his brother sloshing more and rather than have its contents spilled all over him Dean took the tin, sniffed then took a sip. Distaste spread across his face, "Ugh…that's nasty."

"You know what they say…" Sam leaned over conspiratorially. "…the worse the medi…medicine the better…"

He winked, Sam goddamned winked at him. Dean didn't think that Sam had ever winked at him before and he felt …well he felt …offended in some way.

"…the better… " Sam continued, "…good it does. It's sint…scien...scientificly proven." He pointed his finger to emphasise the significance. "That it helpsss." Then nodded as if agreeing with himself, "Annelllllgesic and Musss…cle relaaaxant."

Dean leant back; he felt better having something solid behind him especially the way Sam kept wavering in and out of focus. S**t he was already feeling the affect. Light-headed and rather ineffectually he tried to wave away the noxious fumes but it got to the point where he couldn't avoid breathing in.

Raw heat seared down his throat and into his lungs as he inhaled. Holding himself still, eyes closed, he held his breath and allowed the smoke to burn until with a sudden bolt of clarity he realised what he was doing. Choking he expelled the air with a rush and flung the drink to the floor.

Tutting and leaning over Sam patted Dean's knee very deliberately, "Gonna have to make s'more now… you sppilllllled it," Sam pouted like a six year old and busied himself.

Actually, when he took stock, Dean did feel better physically. Apart from the pounding in his head which had not abated his hip although stiff and sore didn't shoot strings of pain up and down his spine when he moved and the ache across his chest was that, an ache rather than the violent stabbing pains he'd had before. Experimentally he inhaled, expanding his lungs waiting for the pain and forgetting about the laced smog billowing in the hut's interior.

The second hit buzzed, racing through his body as his lungs distributed the drug adulterated oxygen into his bloodstream. "Crap." Dizzy, Dean rubbed his face as if trying to smooth away the fog invading his brain. Jeeze he hadn't been this stoned this quickly since that weekend in…

The thought lost itself because somewhere in the depths of Dean's brain alarm bells were ringing, clamouring loudly and demanding attention. Shaking his head Dean tried to focus on why… suddenly he knew what it was.

"Sam…SAM." His brother blinked at him owlishly, pupils wide and black. "Where's the racoon?"

Sam in agitated consternation swung round wildly, peering into the darkened corners of the hut.

"It was here."

Sam stood unsteadily visibly sobering as he hung onto the beam above his head. He swayed checking the interior again. "I think I lost track of time."

"You think?" Dean pushed himself up the wall taking his weight on his right leg as he rose. Testing his left leg gingerly, he slowly applied pressure before trusting himself to take a step.

It held and he limped across to his brother.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Curling his fingers around the door Sam eased it open. He could feel Dean up close the pressure of his hand suddenly increasing as he steadied himself by hanging onto Sam's shirt.

"You okay?"

"Fine." The word snapped out but Sam ignored its abraded tone as his brother continued to cling on his action speaking much louder than his one word.

Outside the night was black, no moon, no stars showed from behind the high cloud cover and the eerie silence sent shivers down Sam's spine. He'd always loved being out in the woods at night but the allure was rapidly waning.

"Any sign?" He felt his brother's warm breath puff on his neck as he whispered.

"Can't see anything."

"Then let's get the Godamned hell out of here."

"No I mean literally I can't see anything, it's too dark." Sam once again scanned the immediate area outside the door and couldn't even see the nearest tree despite the glow of the fire spilling out through the doorway. Turning back his eyes met with his brother's and for a few seconds neither of them spoke.

"Don't tell me you didn't bring a flashlight…you got every damn thing else in that backpack." There was a distinct hint of resentment and Sam got the feeling that although Dean was mocking him he was angry at the same time.

He prickled "Yeah I got a flashlight but excuse me for not anticipating a full blown night hike and providing you with a Superbright LED headlamp flashlight in fetching black."

"A what?"

"Never mind."

Shaking Dean off Sam stomped back to the hearth, collected various articles and began stuffing them back into his apparently offensive rucksack, his mellow mood of earlier dissipating into an angry huff.

Silence yawned between them as Sam continued to ram things into pockets, zipping them in with ferocious efficiency. Inside he was seething about how ungrateful Dean could be, muttering to himself about how the contents of the backpack had probably saved Dean's life and at least one of them'd had the foresight to pack anything useful and not fill the thing up with candy bars and skin mags.

"Sam…." Dean had followed him and sitting himself down awkwardly was holding out the now empty billycan. Hesitating, Sam stared and then relented. The sight of his brother's obvious discomfort at holding up his arm for so long dispelled his anger. It was Dean's way of saying sorry without saying sorry and Sam was not about to make their situation any worse by falling out with his brother over a perceived slight on his efficiency.

"Thanks."

He also knew that his own annoyance and irritability stemmed from coming down from his earlier high. Fortunately the crash symptoms should be mild and nothing he couldn't handle but he made a mental note to keep a closer eye on Dean.

"Going somewhere?"

Both he and Dean, caught unawares, jerked in alarm and Sam cursed inwardly the damned thing always seemed to get the drop on them. He'd been so busy being mad at his brother that he hadn't heard the racoon return and now their chance of escape without detection or hindrance had gone.

"Yeah… it's been nice an' all but me and Sam gotta make tracks before they send out search parties."

Looking across Sam could see that Dean was smiling but he could also see the tension and danger in his sibling's eyes. He continued packing the last few items into the bag before pulling the drawstring and snapping the fastenings; acutely aware that his brother had risen to his feet.

"Dean…" Remaining on his knees Sam tugged at his brother's arm. Like this Dean was a powder keg waiting to go off. His brother would try to bluff his way so far but if things started to go south he would explode into action and Sam wanted to avoid that particular scenario. Dean wasn't anywhere near a hundred per cent fit; one twist or stretch too far and he'd collapse in a worse condition than he was now making it almost impossible for Sam to get him down the mountain by himself. There was also the racoon to consider, who although seemingly defenceless was still a deity and had, God knew, what kind of powers?

"They won't find you."

There it was, the menace implicit in creature's tone rather than what it said. Dean stepped forward and this time Sam rose to stand with him, hand circling the elder hunter's arm.

"Dean was just saying how nice it would be to sleep on a proper bed."

"I don't doubt he was." It sat back on its hind legs, its small front paws laced together resting on its ample stomach, so reminiscent of human posture that it was downright creepy. "I'm sorry that my humble abode is not to your liking."

Damn, Sam hadn't meant to offend the thing just calm the situation down. "No offence." He offered.

"None taken." The creature was looking straight at Dean, challenging his brother again and Sam felt his brother stiffen. He applied pressure with his fingers and prayed that Dean would get the message.

"It's fortunate that I'm in a good mood otherwise I might not be so charitable and forgiving at the disrespect you've shown my hospitality."

The fire spitting sparks from a sap filled log, suddenly blazed, flaring the creature's eyes red. Sam shifted away instinctively with a shiver of dread at the things demonic appearance but the reflection died and the racoon's own equally disturbing green eyes re-emerged.

The racoon chuckled adding to the creep factor.

"What's so funny?" Dean had stepped in front of Sam protectively despite the fact that he was trembling. Sam hoped the tremor was due to angry tension but he suspected that unfortunately it was his brother's body showing its fatigue, laced with a good dose of pain. The effects of the marihuana would be wearing off and Dean hadn't had any top up pills for at least seven hours he had to hurting even if he was giving off no outward sign.

"Dean…"

"No Sam, I'm done with this, I'm done with being respectful and kowtowing to a rank flee ridden fur ball. I want to know what's so f***ing funny."

"You are…"

It might well have thrown something in Dean's face because the words had the same effect and before Sam could stop him Dean had bent catching up a loose branch from the floor and was advancing on the racoon.

"DEAN NO!" Sam grabbed his brother tripping him and pulling him down before he could reach the creature. They both went down in a mass of tangled limbs and Sam heard the breath woosh out of his brother's lungs in a huff of pain,

"Gerroff me …" Dean tried to roll but Sam's weight held him.

"Calm down." Sam had his lips right up close to Dean's ear so that only he could hear. "This is not the way to deal." Grunting Dean tried again to thrust upward. "It's trying to get a rise out of you … don't let it."

Feeling the fight go out of his brother Sam let up taking his weight onto his knees but keeping his hands on Dean's shoulders. He looked down, narrowing his eyes and gave an almost imperceptible nod mouthing, "We good?" He waited long enough to receive an equally imperceptible answering nod before turning to face the racoon.

The creature's beady eyes regarded him sullenly. "Spoilsport."

XXxxxxxxx

Dean laid out on his back was aware enough to hear the racoon grumbling and complaining about Sam ruining its fun but he couldn't find the energy to pay attention properly. He was so tired all he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep but something inside wouldn't allow him to take that last step, something fought and fought hard to keep him awake even though he was almost past caring what happened. Past caring until he heard Sam cry out.

"S…Sam…?"

The sudden shock of the pained yell robbed him of breath but brought him back to the reality of the hut with HD clarity surround sound and it was the sound of Sam in torment that galvanised his enervated body into action. Clawing at the earth, soil digging painfully under his nails he rolled over raising his upper body onto his elbows. Fear stuck through him clutching hard and bitter as he watched his brother's body arch tight with pain. The racoon, sitting high on its back legs, grinned madly eyes glittering with malice as it presided over its prize.

"Ssstop it…stop…" It wasn't the shout that he'd meant to make more of a choked rasp but the racoon heard him because it paused long enough to meet his eyes.

"Sam is learning a lesson."

It smirked mockingly at Dean before returning its attention to the now writhing hunter on the floor shaking its head in false sorrow.

"Even though I liked you Sam you should've understood that you could not deprive me of my little amusements…without consequence. You…" The rest of the racoon's explanation was drowned out by another agonised cry from Sam.

'Liked' 'should've.' It took a few seconds for the significance of the racoon's use of the past tense to sink into Dean's fatigued brain then comprehension flooded his conscious thought.

"Noooo."

It was as if the sound bursting from him had unlocked his frozen body. He forced his muscles to obey, rage and desperation driving him on as he launched himself at the creature. With violent explosive force he kicked the racoon solidly under the chin. Its head jacked backwards sharply with a sickening crack. The body followed rolling once before the thing lay motionless tongue hanging obscenely from its slack mouth.

Shaking Dean fell to his knees beside his brother tears of anger and fear streaming down his face. "Sam? Sammy?" He whispered hardly daring to touch the still figure in front of him. He waited what seemed like an age of time for some sign that Sam wasn't... he could bring himself to say it, to think it.

"D..D'n?"

"Sam, oh God Sam." Dean gathered his brother into his arms and held him tight. He'd been so frightened.

"Dean, its okay…I'm okay." Weakly Sam's arms drew around him and Dean allowed himself a small measure of comfort in them before he pulled back to examine his brother's face.

"Where are you hurt?" He pulled at Sam's shirt expecting to find some horrific injury. "Sam, tell me."

"I'm not…" His brother pushed him off wincing as he sat up unaided. Immediately Dean began re-examining his brother his initial relief pushed aside by his mounting anxiety.

"Dean, DEAN….stop... I'm okay." Feeling Sam's hands press over his own, press them down firmly, Dean, fingers entangled with Sam's shirtfront stilled over Sam's thumping heart as his brother continued. "I don't think it actually…broke anything…"

"You don't thin…." For some absurd, ridiculous, crazy reason Dean found that insanely funny and the mirth bubbled, building inside him as he stared at his brother until with a deep resonant laugh it erupted from his mouth.

"What?" Sam's bewildered expression only fuelled Dean's merriment and he fell back his body shaking this time with laughter. "Dean? What's so funny?"

Helpless to answer Dean shook his head and burst out anew holding his chest against the ache of the sudden spasm.

"Dude, you've really lost it."

Dean couldn't stop, tears tracked down his face as he gulped in air. Then he saw his brother's lips twitch and they were both laughing, hugging each other descending into hysterical giggles like a couple of teenage girls.

Eventually their hysteria subsided and they sat breathing heavily grinning stupidly at each other. It was the second time Dean had heard his brother giggle and he decided that he liked it for all the weird and wonderful reasons that were purely Sam. He had a sudden strong desire to share his thoughts with his brother but managed to suppress the urge before he blurted it right out. Man, he admonished himself, these chic moments sneaked up on you if you weren't careful.

Wiping his face and still smiling broadly Dean glanced round supposing that if Sam had packed the essentials as well as everything else in that bag of his that they ought to salt and burn the body of the racoon.

It was like cold water had drenched him as he gazed at the empty floor. A wild search produced the same result and again and Dean still found it hard to accept.

The body had gone.

XXXXxxxxxxx

Wind rushed in through the open door, roaring and whirling around Sam ripping at his shirt as leaves whipped and cut his exposed skin. He shouted his brother's name, felt for him collapsing twice pain shooting down his legs and up his back as he stumbled to his feet but Dean remained kneeling staring at the place where the creature had been.

"Dean…Dean." Blindly, squinting against the rushing air, Sam grabbed at his brother's arm trying to force him to his feet but Dean was a dead weight, "Come on." He pulled again, ignoring his own pained weakness, trying to drag his brother up. "Dean you gotta get up. We gotta get out of here." Those words seemed to penetrate his brother's fugue and Sam saw him blink slowly as if coming round and then he too was up on his feet hanging onto Sam's lapels shouting above the harsh discord of the wind's howling.

"Get the pack."

Banging in the increasing whirlwind, the door swung wildly, crashing loudly as it slammed shut, opened, slammed again and stayed shut. The gusting air died abruptly and the hut was suddenly, eerily, silent.

Sam was the first to move hitting the wooden door panels with a crunch before he gripped at the boards, digging the fingertips of one hand into the mossy surface while the other snicked the latch as he tried to rip the thing open. Muscles straining, pushing down the rising panic in his chest he heaved, jerking the handle then throwing his body backward to increase the pull but the door remained stubbornly shut. He changed his grip trying to gain more leverage and then Dean was there slipping a thin branch between the planks and the wall, trying to use its length to prise a gap.

It broke; Sam heard the snap and Dean fell back cursing with frustration as he flung the splintered wood from him in disgust. Sam renewed his efforts, blood oozing around the quick of his fingernails as he dug them further into the rotting wood.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on." Sam gritted his teeth repeating the litany again and again as if saying the words would add to his strength and his ability to pull, or magically split the wood apart underneath his hands. Neither happened and with an angry sob Sam pushed himself from the door, kicking it with the flat of his foot as he backed away breathing hard.

He found Dean, reaching out to grip his arm, reading his own anger and fear mirrored in his brother's eyes before turning away to look for another way of escape but there appeared to be no way out, no windows, no loose boards, no holes; they were trapped.

XXXXXxxxxxxxx

Dean hated the feeling, couldn't stand being hemmed in, caught, cornered. Everywhere he went the first thing he did was mark his escape route be it motel room, library, diner, he always had an out. Here he'd earmarked the door figuring he could smash his way through if necessary. He'd tried after Sam had given it all he had but the pain after one kick had been so intense that he couldn't continue and Sam had tried again but made little impression. Frantically he raked his gaze over the interior searching and seeking.

The hut had given him protection that first night, given him shelter and warmth but now he saw it with different eyes. The wooden walls more splintered and broken, the earthen floor gritted and damp and the fireplace a decaying tumble of cold stone. Now it was a prison.

In some way that fact gave Dean something to work with instead of being in a strange limbo where the enemy had blurred the lines of engagement. Up to now he'd felt that he owed the racoon something. It had given him water when he needed it and in its twisted way had tried to look after him and Sam but now, now it had shown its true nature he had no qualms or compunction in hanging the thing, deity or not, out to dry.

Standing in the centre of the rough shelter Dean's skin crawled, the walls seemed to draw inwards and it felt like something was squeezing his heart. Swallowing he tried to control his breathing, jeez what was he some kind of amateur? Why was this affecting him so much? A sudden flush of anger raced the blood through his veins and raised his head.

"WE'RE LEAVING… DO YOU HEAR ME YOU FREAKING SONOFABITCH. I'LL F**KING DIG MY WAY OUT IF I HAVE TO...AND THEN…THEN I'M GONNA GANK YOUR FUGLY A**."

XXXxxxxxxxx

Dean's body made a sickening thud as it hit the stone of the chimney and he fell slumping onto the ground like a rag doll.

"DEAN." Sam shouted his brother's name but knew with a sinking feeling, from the awkward way Dean was laid, that his sibling must be unconscious. Calming himself, ignoring the dragging ache in his own body and pushing down harshly the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him Sam scrambled forward and once again allowed his training to come to the fore as he bent to check Dean's inert form.

He could see slight movement as the chest rose and fell, so Dean was breathing but only shallowly; Sam needed to make sure the airway was clear. Carefully he checked for any blockages in Dean's mouth and then avoiding putting any undue tension on the neck he placed his fingers under his brother's chin and behind his lower front teeth and gently lifted upwards. Satisfied that his brother's breathing had improved he moved on.

Blood soaked the side of Dean's head. Sam shifted so that he could see better and confirmed what he had suspected. The bleeding was coming from the same area of the skull that had earlier impacted with the rock. Biting his lip Sam probed with his fingers and let out a sigh when he found no depression.

"Guess you just got a thick skull bro." Talking to Dean helped, it seemed to make things not so awful as with trembling hands he pressed two fingers onto the carotid artery underneath his brother's jaw line feeling for the beat; it was faint. Counting under his breath Sam checked the second hand on his watch. Dean's pulse rate was within acceptable limits if a little on the slow side.

"Dean." Leaning over directly above his brother's face Sam called again. "DEAN." He was rewarded with a small moan. "That's it come on Dean talk to me. Tell me where it hurts, that you're hungry, that I'm a bitch."

"S'my?"

Pain waved and washed, rising and rising in a tight encompassing rhythm. Dean hugged in its black molasses went with the flow, uncaring of where he was or how he'd got there.

Gradually through the thickness he became aware of the uncomfortable attitude of his body. Stones dug sharply into his back and thigh, a wet slickness covered the side of his face and his arm bent, was pinned down underneath him by his weight but he could do nothing to ease the strain everything was too heavy, too difficult and f***ing hurt too much and so he lay breathing and waiting.

Something, no someone was touching him. His consciousness frayed and fragile, understood the fingers, the gentle but firm touch on his skin, entering his mouth moving his head. He welcomed them until the pain seared into his skull and then he wanted to pull away, cry out, moan anything to stop the torture but then it all receded wrapped in smoothing dark velvet; sound and sensation falling away to …

"Dean….DEAN."

His mind puzzled over the word trying to grasp onto the threads of its meaning but the pain kept getting in the way increasing in its throbbing intensity the more he struggled to unravel the sense. A moan broke loose from his throat escaping with his breath.

"That's it come on Dean talk to me. Tell me…" Dean lost the next part in the roaring rush in his ears. "…that I'm a bitch."

His brain suddenly slammed into sharp relief. Sammy, it was…

"S'my?"

"Yeah I'm here."

Rocks shifted with a grating sound as Dean tried to find enough purchase to sit himself up.

"Woah, woah Dean hey man take it easy." One of Sam's large hands on the chest kept Dean in place as he struggled weakly; Sam didn't want his brother moving until he'd finished his exam.

"Wwwhhaaaa?" Dean gazed vaguely up at him pupils not quite focusing.

"I think you pissed it off."

"I did? …What?" Dean looked dazed, confused all mixed inside out at the same time and then his face crumpled, brow frowning as Sam's exploring hands found a tender spot. "Oww!" He squirmed away.

"Don't move."

"Bitch."

"Dean you got flung against a very hard stone wall with your very breakable body which I might add was already broken in several places." Sam had ignored the familiar insult but then smiled remembering that he'd asked for it. Stopping he met Dean's gaze silently for a moment, "Jerk…S**t." His brother's eyes had rolled back. "Dean…DEAN," but the elder hunter had slipped back into unconsciousness.


	11. Chapter 11

Lying uncomfortably on his makeshift bed Dean woke disorientated his brain puzzling over where he was until he opened his eyes to see Sam dishevelled and awkwardly hunched against the dilapidated wall next to him.

It made him angry all over again seeing Sam's sleeping face outlined against

the dark of his hair, a maze of small cuts criss-crossing his skin. The kid had to be hurting and exhausted especially after what that freaking creature had put him through and Dean was glad he'd managed to kick the goddamned racoon to hell. Except that he hadn't, it had come back and thrown him around like a puppet and he hadn't been able to do a damned thing about it.

Gingerly he put his fingers up grazing over, feeling the dried crust of blood at his temple. His head was throbbing pounding agonisingly in his skull making him feel sick but at least he wasn't still bleeding. Dean swallowed against the nausea the last thing he wanted to do was hurl he knew from experience that it would only make him feel crappier than he already did.

Instead, altering his position Dean tried to ease the tension in his neck, he wanted to keep watch over Sam but the pain was escalating. Carefully he changed his aching body into a different attitude but only made things worse and the pulsing stab behind his eyes turned into red-hot needles. Groaning he tried twisting his head, this time the painful beat resonated down his spine and spread round his ribcage adding its bite to his struggle for breath.

Distracted from his own troubles by a soft moan escaping from Sam as he stirred, Dean shifted again until he could see his brother without straining. Sam looked awful, skin grey with dark circles under his eyes. Visually he checked his sibling over watching him carefully, reassuring himself that Sam was _only_ asleep before closing his eyes in the faint hope that if he kept still his head might actually stay on his shoulders and not explode.

He must have slept or passed out because the next time Dean opened his eyes the grey dawn light had coloured in the world around him. It only made the bruises on Sam's face look worse and Dean choked back the tears that welled up and threatened to spill down his face. "Stop it Dean." He censured himself crying was not gonna help it only showed weakness; his father's voice overlaid his own in his head 'You don't have time for this self-pitying crap when you're hunting.'

He'd been six and it had been the first time he'd fired a shotgun. The recoil had slammed into his shoulder and laid him out flat. He'd cried but instead of pulling him up and comforting him his Dad had ripped into him and made him fire four more rounds. Each cartridge setting him on his butt and bruising his shoulder further but he had not cried again and John had patted him on his back at the end.

Throat constricting at the memory Dean wished that Sam would wake up. He knew that his brother didn't have a magic wand or that his being awake would make the situation any better but maybe it would dispel his morbid thoughts and the feeling of helplessness that was creeping over him. Partly he knew these 'girly feelings' were because his resistance was low. Being injured, stuck in a sh*thole in the middle of a forest with a demented raccoon after you will do that every time but unfortunately that didn't stop him feeling them.

Forgetting his 'don't move' rule he moved. Sharp pain sliced though his chest causing him to jerk involuntarily, he held his breath but that only made his head thud more. Man he could do with some of those painkillers Sam had dished out earlier. He glanced at his brother but there was no sign of him waking. Taking a few moments he decided that it would be worth enduring a little more hurting to get the pills and the relief they offered.

The idea had been a bad one. The second Dean moved he was swept with a wave excruciating pain followed uncompromising nausea. He nearly lost it all over his brother and despite his misery Dean couldn't help the slight smirk as he imagined his Sam's reaction to being woken by Dean puking all over him. Then disgusted at himself for such a thought he nearly lost it all over again. Slowly, head swimming with a dizzying vertigo to add to the thudding pain he reached around Sam for the backpack.

Finger tips brushed the rough canvas and Dean had to force himself to push the last couple of inches that allowed him to grip and pull the bag towards him. Desperately he fumbled the clasps, pinching skin as he slid them open.

"Sonofa..."

He sucked at the blood blister filling on the fleshy part of his index finger before reapplying himself to getting into the GODDAMNED BAG! Frustration made him clumsier but eventually he found the inner pocket that contained the medical kit.

The water felt good as it slid down his throat washing away the chalky taste of the pills. How long till they kicked in? Dean squinted at his watch only to find a crazy lattice of cracks covering the face. Damn it he must have got smashed when he fell. This set his brain wondering irrelevantly as to how he'd come this far without noticing it was broken. Had he not checked the time since he'd gone over the cliff? How much time had passed, how many days? He searched the pathways of his brain but the answers eluded him getting lost in the thudding, throbbing cadence in his head.

Eventually he made the decision to give up thinking, closed his eyes and rested back doing his best to ignore the scraping bracken under him; gradually and without meaning to he drifted into an unsettled sleep.

XXxxxxxxxxxx

It was the sun on his face that woke Sam. The warmth seeping in with the light from the planking's knotholes, encroaching on his sleep, coaxing him from the dream world with its gentle heat. Still tired he resisted but slowly his muscles demanded attention protesting at his frame's slumped attitude. He stretched, yawning, easing his lean form from its stiffness and unfolding his limbs.

Cramp gripped his side shooting up from his hip to his chest. "S**t." Rolling, extending the right side of his torso, arm over his head he arched backwards, holding the extension until the pain eased.

Carefully Sam allowed himself to straighten, testing the sore muscles allowing them to relax gradually all the while waiting for the griping pain to start again. He was not in good shape he'd been driving himself hard pushing beyond tiredness, sleeping but not resting and he felt weary to the bone. On top of this the racoon had hurt him profoundly, sending spasms of racking pain through his body and even though there had been no actual physical trauma it had drained him further leaving a deep aching weakness in his muscles.

Inhaling, filling his lungs, he forced away the pain dragging at him and leant over to check on Dean, lightly placing a hand on his brother's forehead.

"I'm fine!" Dean's voice was stable and mildly pissed. "You can stop groping me now." Sam withdrew his hand and grinned to himself it was good to hear Dean's drollness he'd missed its dry presence. Dean always had some stupid comment or sarcastic quip for these moments and although mostly cringeworthy and didn't lessen the _actual _danger they always made Sam feel less overwhelmed, like they had a choice, a chance.

"How's the head?"

"Peachy."

Dean was tough and used to injury but you couldn't mess with head wounds. Sam was pretty sure that his brother was suffering from concussion. There was no way anyone could hit their head that hard, twice, and not be. He'd been almost certain the first time around that there'd been no internal bleeding. However, the second trauma had compounded the previous damage and earlier Dean had definitely not been on the right page.

"You wanna try sitting up?"

"What's with the twenty questions?" Dean shifted, curling further and Sam didn't miss the sound of his brother's breath being sucked in. He was obviously still in a considerable amount of pain.

Raking his teeth on his bottom lip Sam realised he was going to have to re-evaluate his brother's physical condition. He would rather have done it with his sibling's full co-operation but Dean being Dean Sam knew he was going to have to read between the lines or rather the stoic silences and witticisms to get a true picture.

Years of experience told Sam not to relax his vigilance over his sibling. Dean might sound better but that didn't mean he was fit enough for the rigors of a mountain hike but at least, judging by his brother's last utterance, Dean was beginning to regain some of his gritty acumen.

Scanning the hut Sam thought over the events of the previous night. Clearly Dean hadn't killed the thing or even hurt it and he felt a surge of healthy hatred well up inside him. He quashed it reminding himself that he needed to keep a cool head. However it set his mind thinking. Sam wasn't sure how the shapechanging worked with a deity; whether the creature was corporeal and had a physical presence or if it was an illusion or caused an illusory state in the observer. Whatever it certainly smelt! He wrinkled his nose as the damp fur aroma suddenly seemed stronger.

He checked around the hut but everything seemed as it had been. The door was still shut tight. He contemplated going over and giving it another try but as the last forty eight times had proved fruitless he decided it could wait.

"Dean?"

"I'm asleep, Sammy."

"Why a racoon?"

"I dunno maybe it was the only fur coat left in the shop."

"No," Sam paused, "I think there's more to it."

It certainly wasn't the most pleasing form the deity could have chosen. That was assuming the lore was correct and it could take on any visage it desired. The owl he could understand; a swift, deadly killer with amazing night vision but a racoon?

Recalling some of his research on a previous hunt Sam remembered that the name racoon came from a Algonquin Indian word 'arkunem' meaning hand scratcher. Not that knowing the etymology of the word helped the situation any.

He scrunched his brow trying to connect the threads of information in his brain. Racoons were certainly resourceful and adaptable with amazingly dextrous paws and an insatiable curiosity but they also had the reputation for bad tempered ferocity. All the attributes the creature had displayed. Sam was beginning to realise that perhaps that it wasn't such a strange choice. Either the deity had acquired the characteristics of a racoon or the creature fitted the deity's own personality perfectly.

Dredging through his knowledge of animal lore he recalled that the racoon's black band mask represented secrecy and disguise coupled with transformation, yeah the more he thought about the more the racoon ticked a lot of this particular forest spirit's boxes.

Sighing Sam shook his head Dean had been right when he'd called him a walking encyclopaedia of weird. He gazed unfocused and sifted through his mind turning over, firing the synapses to dig something up, anything that they could use against their captor. He had so much information but none of it helped them kill the thing; unless, Sam worried at his lip again mulling over…

XXXxxxxxxx

If he could stay still he'd be fine. He breathed and it hurt. Stay still, stay still he berated himself. He blinked and it hurt. He stayed stiller, holding his breath and blinking as little as possible but his mind wandered. Crap, thinking hurt.

"Dean? You with me?"

"Where else would I be." For information to anyone who gave a damn talking hurt too.

Dean felt more wretchedly sick than he'd swear he'd ever felt in his life. Not only the puking sort but the deep down shivering kind that made you realise how fragile and sensitive the human form was but he wasn't going to say anything to Sam. What good would it do? Didn't improve their chances of survival or make things easier or less dangerous or …

"Do you think you can sit up."

F**k no. "Yeah."

There was silence and Dean heard the scrape of Sam's boots.

"Well?"

Dean realised he hadn't moved and although he didn't look up he knew his brother was leaning over him expectantly.

"Who made you Dorm Monitor?"

"I appointed myself. I have a badge an' everything." Drawing closer Sam squatted and placed a hand on Dean's upper arm. "Let me help."

Shrugging Sam off Dean rolled and hissed it felt like the jagged end of one broken rib was grated on the other. He attempted to move more slowly giving his body time to adjust to each new position but it didn't stop the shafts of pain in his head and side as he twisted sideways to lever his torso from the floor.

He grunted with the effort and Sam hovered but didn't help it was unspoken between them; Dean needed to do this by himself. Minutes later panting, eyes tight shut he was leaning against the wooden wall sweat sheening on his forehead.

"There'd better be a damned good reason that I have to be sitting up." He opened his eyes to glare at his brother and caught the smirk before Sam had time to remove it from his features. "What the hell's made you so happy?"

The smile returned but Sam shook his head. "Nothing." Dean held his siblings gaze utterly unconvinced of his brother's sincerity. "You've found a way haven't you? You've found a way to kill the goddamned racoon." Hope surged through Dean and he shifted once again to ease the ache.

"No not kill it. Not sure you can kill a deity but…"

"But? But what…" Dean leaned forward eager for the information and instantly regretted it. His back went into spasm. "S**t…Ow! Hell, Goddamnit…" Pause. "Sonofabitch."

"Is there any other profanity you wanna try?"

"F**k."

"Make you feel better."

"No." There was a beat and then a grin spread across Dean's face. Sam joined in with one of his own as he scooted an arm around to support his brother.

"Come on you need to be standing for this."

Dean held his protest in and let Sam help him to his feet.

Totally upright was not a good experience a whirling dizziness hit him and frightened that he was going to collapse he hung onto Sam in a most unmanly-like way before swallowing, deliberately separating himself, balancing and letting go. "Okay shoot, if we can't kill it what _are_ we going to do."

"Strip."

"What!" Of all the things his brother might have said that was the last thing he expected, in fact, he couldn't have expected it because it was so far past weird in the sway of things Sam could have said and Sam had said some pretty strange things, that it so floored him he couldn't think of anything more original to say himself than his startled exclamation.

"Strip. Boxers, everything."

Dean recovered some of his surety. "Sam I am not putting on a floor show for that thing…" He stopped because Sam was toeing off his boots and socks while popping open the button on own his jeans and sliding them down his thighs.

"Sammy!"

"I mean it Dean." Sam stepped out of the denim leaving it crumpled on the floor, shrugged off his jacket and over-shirt and pulled his T-shirt over his head.

"Do you need any help." Sam attired now in only his boxers took a pace towards him. Dean tried to back up but as he was leaning on the wall; he had nowhere to go. It wasn't that seeing Sam in his underwear was unusual, living together as they did it was unavoidable but it was – in this situation – a little disconcerting.

He put up a hand to stop Sam, "Its okay…" contacted skin to skin, hand to bare chest, almost yelped and withdrew as if he' been electrocuted. "…I can manage…" He cleared his throat deepening his voice again, "Thanks."

"'k." Sam stood back but didn't turn away.

"I'm taking this on blind faith, right."

Sam didn't answer as Dean slowly and awkwardly stripped off his T-shirt being careful to avoid his bandaged ribs and then put his hands down to flick open the button on his jeans. Reluctantly he slid the zipper down then stopped.

"You sure about this?"

"Well…" Sam hesitated. Instantly Dean zipped up again. "Dean."

"No Sammy I am not going to disrobe…"

Sam burst out laughing. "Disrobe?"

"…take my clothes off for a freaking racoon to get its kicks and if this is some kind of getting back to nature thing then…"

"No, no…" Sam was still grinning. "The Lore says that if you put your clothes on…"

"I'm putting them back on? Then why the frig am I…" Dean was now thoroughly bewildered. First Sam tells him to strip off and now his brother was saying get dressed. Dean was beginning to get the feeling he was the butt of some huge joke that no one had let him in on.

"You have to put them on inside out and back to front it disarms the spirit, confuses it … kind of…" Sam trailed off.

"Confuses it?… Kind of…"

"Yeah. Should do."

"Should?"

Dean regarded his brother as Sam shrugged and totally looked ridiculous stood in the middle of the hut in his worn boxers.

"Should." Dean repeated raising his eyebrows. "…And this works?"

"I can't be certain…never tried it before." Sam looked sheepish and again Dean, again, was struck how young he looked.

"Okay…" Hands once again on his fly Dean using a lot of faith slowly opened his jeans and let them fall and then s**t, he realised that he couldn't bend to untie his boots, not without causing himself considerable pain and the possibility of blacking out.

"Sam…" He didn't have to say anymore his brother immediately saw his predicament and knelt untying the laces, easing the boots and socks from Dean's extremities, then helped him step out the jeans.

It was then that Dean saw Sam's feet. He frowned, "Geeze Sam what happened?"

"Oh it's nothing."

Dean couldn't pull his eyes away from the cuts and bruises that covered his brother's feet. One particularly red and sore looking contusion went the full length from ankle to toe.

"Sam that's not nothing."

"You took the American Airlines route down the cliff I had to climb. The rock was wet and…"

Dean understood completely. He'd had exactly the same lesson from his Dad but had never had to put it into practice in the field.

"Sammy, That's gotta hurt." He was full of concern his own pain forgotten temporarily in the face of Sam's injuries.

"S'not too bad," Sam became uncomfortable under Dean's scrutiny. "They're fine. Just shallow scrapes" Sam brushed off the attention. "D'you need some help with your boxers?"

That snapped Dean out of his shock and he clamped his hands over the thin material covering his hips, "I think I can manage that one myself thanks."

Both Winchesters then stood waiting.

"What?" Sam was puzzled at Dean's inactivity.

"Dude turn around."

Sighing and rolling his eyes Sam turned leaving Dean to manoeuvre the shorts down his legs while he attended to his own.

"So inside out."

"Yeah."

"And back to front."

"Yeah."

Dean dropped his boxers and then paused.

"What happens if I want to piss."

"Tie a knot in it."

That brought an abrupt snort from Dean and he suddenly had to slam his hand against the wood behind him as he overbalanced. He glanced up at his brother's slim naked form and was relieved that his sibling still had his back to him, this was embarrassing enough without an audience.

Leaning down Dean tried to ignore the jabbing needles of pain as he manoeuvred the material from around his ankles and turned it so the seams were visible. Then he bent and attempted to push his foot through the open gap. The boxers slipped from his grasp.

"Sonofabitch."

Wiggling his toes under the heap of cotton he lifted his foot until he could hook his fingertips into his boxers. Snagging the waistband he dragged the flimsy shorts awkwardly up his legs and snapped the elastic back into place around his hips.

He let out his breath in a sigh and relaxed his clamped jaw. "You can turn around now."

Without waiting for Sam and shivering slightly in the cool air Dean attempted the second step in what he'd named _'Operation Back to Front'_. Bending his knees he leant sideways trying to retrieve his jeans from the floor. He felt foolish and hoped to hell that he didn't look as stupid as he felt. He missed by a mile, fingers grasping the air a good foot away from the pile of material.

"I'll get them."

Annoyance blasted through Dean "Goddamnit Sammy I can pick up my own pants." He tried again, failing miserably as the pain escalated to such a pitch that he had to close his eyes and hold his breath.

Silently Sam closed the gap between them picked up the offending article and turned the legs inside out. He then held the waistband low and open deliberately not looking up.

Dean thought about refusing but then the reality of trekking through bug infested forest with bare legs reared up and meekly he stepped into each leg allowing Sam to pull them up. Dean was then faced with the fact that the zip was behind him the metal tag imprinting on the fleshy part of his left butt cheek. Goddamnit, a heated flush blushed on Dean's neck and face. He couldn't … twist; he turned the other way. "S**t!"

With only momentary hesitation Sam stepped forward sliding his hand between denim and cotton. Then pinching the toggle between thumb and forefinger he tugged the zip upward in one swift movement finishing by slipping the button through the buttonhole.

Dean limped away as soon as he could and gave Sam a 'If-you-ever-mention-this-again-your-life-will-be-forfeit look. However it was wasted because Sam was head down turning Dean's worn Zepplin T-shirt inside out.

"Here."

Sam held the faded cotton out. Dean snatched it glaring but then relented and gave a grudgingly mumbled, "thanks," as he dragged it over his head. Swivelling the garment so the label was under his chin he stretched the fabric until he could get his arms in the armholes without bending or twisting his muscles too much and pulled it down to cover his bruised and bound chest.

It itched, the lettering and picture now at his back stuck to the skin and prickled where the logo and pithy saying had degraded to a cracked, pealing confusion of colour. Dean wriggled then resorted to rubbing against the wall trying to offset the discomfort without alerting Sam. Having to ask for help in dressing had been humiliating enough so there was no way he was gonna ask Sam to scratch his back. He swallowed and tried to gain back some of his swagger.

"Okay backwards boy…now what?"


	12. Chapter 12

Kneeling Sam examined the ground in front of the fireplace where the racoon had been sitting. Reaching down he carefully collected several tufts of fur discarded and scattered when the thing had been grooming itself.

Earlier he'd tangled himself up in trying to think around the rationale that it might be his own perception that he was looking at; the racoon being an illusion, like a faerie glamour fashioned from his own conception of the deity.

Sam had to pull himself sharply from that area of thinking beginning to appreciate Dean's earlier inner turmoil over the damn thing and decided to ignore the existential and stick to the physical. Now, with the hair, he'd found some hard evidence of the racoon's corporeal existence. He pocketed it carefully with a satisfied smile; his plan would have faltered at the first hurdle if he'd been unable to find anything 'substantial' belonging to the racoon.

He still thought of the thing as a racoon, finding it difficult to see the deity as anything else, although he knew that its true form must be something entirely different. Somehow the image of the racoon had stuck with him but for his current purpose this representation would suit, taking less effort to visualise than something more uncommon.

Sam circled the hut making his preparations thankful that the spirit had made no attempt to communicate or show itself. However, having no way of stopping the deity observing his actions if it wanted to Sam made no attempt to hide what he was doing but prayed that the thing would leave them alone long enough for him to complete the ritual. However, he had the feeling that the creature wasn't far, the pungent smell he associated with the racoon had gotten stronger as he worked.

Watching him, a baffled expression on his face, Dean sat in silence knees drawn up arms wrapped around himself in protection. Sam noted that every now and then, when he thought Sam wasn't looking, his sibling glanced at the closed hut door apprehensively.

Sam wished he could give his brother some comforting words, reassure him, throw him a life-line of a joke but he had nothing. He himself felt the apprehension deep in his own gut, a small knot of fear that teased at his confidence.

As supernatural beings went this deity was an unknown quantity, Sam had only the sketchiest idea of its nature from the reading he could recall. As to the accuracy of that of that lore – putting his and Dean's life on the line based on its validity was probably foolhardy and maybe he should had reviewed their options when Dean had questioned him before. He shook his head because there were no other options. He didn't find the prospect of living the rest of his life as a worshiper, bowing and scraping to the will of their captor pleasant and he was sure he could speak for his brother as well on that score so they had to do _something_ and this _was _the only something he'd come up with.

Sam sighed inwardly, Dean was relying on him, all _he_ could do was continue with the ritual and exude as much assurance as he could muster into the actualisation despite the fact that part of him felt he was grasping at straws even thinking that his plan would work.

Settling himself in front of a large flat stone Sam tugged out several strands of his own hair and added them to the racoon fur. Then he twisted and wove the filaments together his fine fingers working the strands with deft assurance. Occasionally he spat on the threads smoothing and knotting the braided fibres.

"Dude." Dean protested as Sam spat for a third time.

Glancing up Sam smiled at the look of distaste on his brother's face. "Haven't got any Bend Over Oil so this will have to do."

"Bend Over Oil?" The incredulous tone of Dean's voice said everything a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You gotta be kidding me. You gonna f….."

"DEAN."

"…to death." Dean finished the smirk now fully formed.

"Yeah…and I volunteer you…"

The smirk fled and Dean's mouth opened to object but Sam hardly keeping the amusement out of his voice put his brother out of his misery. "It's used when you want to dominate, subjugate and force another to do your bidding." He said recalling the passage as he spoke. "It's just another name for Commanding Oil."

"Oh, I see."

Dean didn't see at all it was obvious but Sam had no time for lengthy explanations. Quickly he spoke an incantation as he nimbly tightened the threads into a slipknot making the braid into a circle. He spat again over the last tied whorl repeated the verse and looked up to see Dean observing him quizzically. "Knot Magic." He offered as if that explained everything.

Slipping the hair/fur bracelet onto his right wrist he stood up, he was ready.

XXxxxxxxxxx

Miserable as hell Dean waited for Sam to finish, he had no idea what his brother was doing and hesitated to break his concentration to ask. He just wished that whatever it was Sam would hurry up because the deep aching in his body was getting worse and he was about done with it, camping, rain, lush vegetation and f**king forest deities could go hang. What he wanted was a soft bed and twenty-four, no forty-eight hours sleep, followed by the largest cheese-burger he could find. No scratch that, the burger first then he'd sleep.

Observing Sam carefully he tried to discern what ritual his brother was about. Of course Dean had heard of Knot magic but this wasn't like any he'd seen. Bobby had used a long cord and made knots in patterns along its length, recited a curse then buried the whole thing in his yard. At no time had the grizzled hunter spat or mentioned spitting or even 'Bend Over Oil' now his brother had to have made that one up!

Rising suddenly Sam stood straight and tall to his full six feet five inches. He turned and grinned at Dean encouragingly before shouting loudly.

"OKAY…YOU WIN ….COME BACK AND WE'LL TALK."

Silence reigned. Sam turned back to Dean and shrugged. Dean didn't shrug it would've hurt too much but he pulled a face turning the corners of his mouth down and raising his eyebrows.

Dean half hoped that the racoon was gone and would stay gone. Hoped it had tired of playing with its human hostages and disappeared up the hole from whence it came but he knew they wouldn't be that lucky. Never in all his years of hunting had a supernatural creature packed up its bags and got out of Dodge, not of its own free will anyway.

Sam was shouting again and it made Dean's head hurt, the jackhammer back from lunch was thumping in a regular pounding rhythm. Closing his eyes he carefully relaxed back until the base of his skull touched the wall.

He swallowed as everything spun, lurching around him as if he was drunk. Bile filled his throat hot and bitter, choking him. He wouldn't have minded so much, if he had been wasted at least he would have enjoyed the process of getting to this point.

Coughing, leaning over and spitting in a parody of Sam's ritual he expelled the noxious substance. It was weird, normally he would have been up there ready to gank the sucker as soon as it appeared. He knew he should be up there, up next to Sam, ready, weapon in hand but all he wanted to do was sleep, lose himself in the cool darkness, to get away from the pain just for a while then he'd be okay, feel better, help Sammy.

Slowly, his body slipped sideways and Dean never felt the floor hit him in the face.

XXxxxxxxx

"I don't think I like your tone."

Sam whirled round he'd been shouting for the last half-hour it being the only way he could think of attracting the attention of the racoon. He'd seen Dean collapse and rushed to his stricken brother but apart from settling Dean more comfortably on the ground there was little he could do. His brother needed a hospital and the quickest way of getting him to one was to deal with the racoon.

"You're saying you want to stay, to talk yet I get the feeling you wish to leave."

Sam wasn't sure what to say to this statement, the racoon's perceptive and accurate understanding of his inner intent made him more than a little apprehensive. Could he trust the lore? Would the thing be able to discern his motives despite turning him clothes inside out and back to front? However, he chewed on his lip, there was nothing he could do now except to continue with the plan and hope for Dean's sake that it worked.

"We have to go, Dean needs help."

The racoon ambled over to Dean's inert form and sniffed, digging its snout into his neck between the hairline and the rim of the T-shirt. It huffed, twice blowing out before shifting round to nudge under the chin lifting Dean's head up and back. It then sat face close to face and waited expectantly.

Sam stayed quiet; his body tight with tension ready if the creature did anything to his brother but the racoon remained still, blinking its glittering green eyes until it broke the silence.

"Wake him up. He amuses me."

It sounded petulant like a child who didn't understand that it had broken its toy and Sam found himself shaking with anger realising that to the creature he and Dean were just playthings, it had no concern for their well-being. They were entertainment.

Sam had thought he'd recognised the deity's motives, feeling some sympathy for something that was protecting its forest from invaders, preserving, defending, guarding its territory. Any creature would do the same in the face of the destruction that the human race can wreak however inadvertently but the racoon had gone beyond that had shown that it had no regard for life, no understanding beyond its own gratification.

"He's unconscious."

"Wake him up." The racoon nudged Dean again with its muzzle.

"Leave him alone." Sam unable to stop took a step towards the pair but found himself flung across the hut to slam painfully into the wall. Breath exploded out of his lungs and he fell gasping to the ground but Sam wasn't cowed, he wasn't going to let that thing hurt his brother any more. Rolling onto his knees he staggered to his feet supporting himself with his palm flat to the wood.

"He's unconscious," Sam shouted his whole body trembling as he tried to control the emotions rushing through himHe wHH

, "he can't wake up. I wish he could but you flung him around like a rag doll and smacked his already injured head off a stone wall."

"He was insolent and like you he needs to mind his manners."

"He needs a hospital…"

Sam stopped realising that he was goading the racoon into a repeat performance of his earlier painful lesson. The desperation and anger he felt was evident in his voice, well way to go Sammy you really kept a lid on that one, he berated himself for slipping his control. He swallowed and reigned himself in. He had to keep calm and keep a clear head if he was going to trap the deity. Losing it over Dean wasn't going to help; moreover he needed to keep the creature unaware of his intentions until the last possible moment and emoting all over the place wasn't going to cut it

Taking several breaths Sam calmed himself and stepped slowly into the centre of the hut. He stood for a few moments and then sat down crossing his legs and waited.

The racoon regarded him suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

It was working the thing couldn't read what he was doing. Keeping his eyes deliberately on the ground in front of him Sam made no reply. The creature shuffled closer sniffing the air.

"Are you making a supplication." It came closer. "Where is your offering?" It sounded hopeful and Sam gave himself a mental kick, of course, he should have used food to entice it but he couldn't help that now. He maintained his silent vigil keeping his breathing even and measured. Scraping the ground with its claws as it moved the racoon closed the space between them.

"Have you any more of that…that food." It made the last word sound strange and hopeful as if the very concept was foreign but at the same time it was eager for it.

Tensing Sam held himself ready, willing the creature nearer, fighting the urge to look up, to look it in the eye. 'Come on, come on, come on.' He chanted over and over in his head, waiting, a bit nearer, a bit nearer.

Dean moaned and shifted.

It broke the bubble, the racoon's head went up and turned then it was scampering towards the sound and his brother. Sam cursed inwardly he'd been so close another few minutes, a few feet and he'd have gotten hold of the thing but at least he'd tested his theory about the clothes the racoon had seemed to be unaware that Sam was about to try and trap it.

XXXxxxxxxxxx

"S S'mmy?"

A wet tongue slimed his face and Dean tried to pull away confused as to why his brother was licking him.

"Du…de."

The tongue swiped along his nose and dipped into his partially open mouth on its way across his skin to his neck.

Dean's eyes fluttered open and the mild protest of disgust suddenly turned into a yelp of horror as he recoiled cringing away from the creature who was up close and being waaaay to personal. "What the…!" but the sharp movement caused a shock of pain and his whole body tensed robbing him of the breath to finish his exclamation.

"I want you to talk." It was grinning again.

Disorientated, still trying to come to terms with waking up and having a racoon sucking on his face plus the abrupt return of pain Dean didn't answer immediately. That earned him a cuff, the force jerking his head to the side, sharp claws scoring, marking his cheek deep enough to run with blood. Pain soared pounded inside his skull a thumping, drumming certainty that drowned any other sensation.

"Talk. Amuse me."

Dean flinched barely knowing what from and his hands came up defensively expecting another blow.

"HEY."

The word came from somewhere far away slicing through Dean's daze vaguely familiar to his unfocused brain and he made a conscious struggle to place the sound .

"S..a..mmy"

Moving, slower this time, Dean rolled more onto his back, it hurt but the confusing fog was clearing and he definitely knew that what he wanted was to get away from the roving tongue and claws of the creature sitting in front of him. Gritting his teeth he endured and managed to put - inches - between him and it.

"Sam…" His head fell back, heavy with pain and he wanted to say more but he couldn't force out the words over the sickening waves of torment that raged through his head.

"Stay still Dean I got this."

Frustrated Dean tried to focus on his brother, screwing his eyes against the throbbing pain, desperately trying to get a grip and work out what the hell was going on. Panting he fought to sit up because he sure as hell wasn't going to take any of this lying down but the whole interior swooped and spun, turning his stomach in a sickening lurch of nausea. In the end he settled for raising his arm and splaying his fingers in a parody of a wave.

"Need I remind you that your continued existence is based on your ability to keep me amused."

The racoon's warm foetid breath goosebumped his skin as it ghosted his face and Dean couldn't prevent the shaking shudder of fear that trembled through his body. He retched then closed his eyes swallowing hard vowing to himself that he was going to gank this freaking thing, he was; there was no way he was going to spend his last days as some a**hole deity's jester.

There was a crinkle of cellophane off to his right. The racoon grunted and the looming oppressive presence lifted from Dean as the creature scooted round and practically sprinted away from him, scuffing up and spraying dirt in every direction.

Dean spat the soil from his mouth expressing a mental 'WHOOP' and a 'WAY TO GO SAMMY' because as distractions went that one worked like a f**king charm but after his initial relief he struggled. His enervated body refused to sit, his muscles trembling and paining so violently that Dean had to do what he rarely ever did and give up but he didn't give in forcing his tired muddled mind to focus on his brother.

Sam appeared to be holding out another Granola Bar to the racoon, how many of those freaking things had his brother packed? Dean mused that he would have to get himself one of those bottomless backpacks instead of his duffle and fill it with cheeseburgers. Then he remembered, although it didn't have burgers in it that he'd had a rucksack and it was lying on a forest trail somewhere slowly rotting in the rain. He wondered abstractedly if the creatures in this Godforsaken place liked breakfast bars or burgers better and then was assailed with an image of ants marching off in a line carrying the unwrapped snacks above their heads.

With difficulty Dean wrenched himself out of this whimsical spiral of distracted thought realising that dangerously he'd lost time. Panicking he blinked trying to force his melted mush of a brain to concentrate and fix his attention on Sam and what was happening three feet away.

XXXxxxxxxx

After its initial enthusiasm the creature seemed to be hesitating stopping short of snatching the bar. An uneasy feeling settled in Sam's stomach as he slowly waved the cereal stick from side to side. The racoon's head followed the movement and it licked its lips but frustratingly the damn thing wouldn't reach out and close the last few inches.

Worrying at his lip with his teeth Sam backed away, if nothing else he could try and get the creature away from Dean. He risked a glance at his brother, it was impossible to tell how bad Dean was but he couldn't help the stab of anxious concern at his sibling's silent, almost motionless form.

Snuffling and huffing to itself the creature followed him eyes fixed on the tasty treat but it seemed reluctant to move nearer and when Sam pushed the bar forward it backed away.

Why wouldn't it eat the goddamned snack? What was it waiting for? Did it suspect? Sam's already pounding heart gave a lurch. Maybe the inside-out thing didn't work after all? Maybe it was a pile of bulls**t and they were screwed.

Sam tasted copper as his teeth broke skin.

Keeping his voice deliberately soft he gave it one last-ditch attempt.

"Mmm look yummy bar, I've got more, however many you want."

For a moment he thought the racoon was going to take the bait but then he saw with a sinking feeling the change. A flicker was all it was, a fleeting speck of doubt appearing in the thing's eyes but it was enough and he cursed as it shuffled back a few more steps, sharp yellow teeth showing in an angry grimace.

Recklessly, seeing his opportunity about to vanish Sam lunged forward, grabbing the racoon's nearest paw with his free hand and holding on. He dropped the Granola bar, fingers blindly feeling until they found the hair bracelet he wore on his right wrist. Gripping the slender plaited thread he slipped it over the wide part of his hand and onto the racoon's leg.

"Racoon, I command and compel you to follow my will." Pulling on the slipknot Sam tightened the circle of hair and fur around the foreleg securing it firmly. "I command and compel you to follow my will."

A roar of rage filled the small space of the hut and Sam staggered back, falling, scrabbling backwards until his shoulder hit the wooden wall, the air around him crackling, alive with power. The roar came again and the creature leapt high, jack-knifing, arching, chewing at the circle parting the fur on its leg in frantic snacking bites. Moans and snarls emanated from its throat as it jerked and tore at the knotted bracelet.

Ozone crowded Sam's nostrils making his throat constrict and eyes water but he knew he couldn't stop he had to use his advantage. Lungs burning he hoarsely barked out his command.

"I direct and charge you to remain in this hut."

Arm covering his nose and mouth Sam pushed himself onto his feet groping blindly for his knife hoping that the bracelet would distract the creature long enough for him to complete the ritual.

Grasping the hilt he slid the blade free stabbing the point into the dirt floor. Scoring the surface, carving an inch deep groove, he circled the writhing creature as quickly as he could, three times.

Coughing, he paused trying to find enough breath to whisper the invocation as he closed the circle.

"I call on you the elements of Water, Earth, Air and Fire to close this circle. I call on you to contain this entity. I call on you to revoke and abolish its power." He repeated the chant twice more moving to the compass points on the perimeter.

"Releasssse me."

It was crouching facing him eyes unblinking, glowing green animosity as they glared.

"No."

The small hairs on the back of Sam's arms rose prickling the surface as the small space once again became charged and still the racoon stared unblinking a growl rumbling in its throat. Lightening veined across the interior narrowly missing Sam. Forking, striking the ground in sparking electrical bursts, cracking the atmosphere and illuminating the dark shape of the creature. More came, hitting the floor spitting up dirt and sparks searing Sam's skin forcing him to retreat, backing him up against the interior wall as the hut filled with a scintilla of dust and spoil.

"RELEASSSSSE ME."

The voice's menace sliced through the thickened the air and Sam felt as pressure as if something was pushing down on him. Gathering the remnants of his strength he darted forward and throat constricting completed the last invocation.

"I call on you the elements of Water, Earth, Air and Fire to close this circle. I call on you to contain this entity. I call on you to revoke and abolish its power."

The electrical storm died abruptly silencing leaving a fog of dust floating, clogging the air.

Sam coughed and retched as the still charged particles invaded his lungs as he forced himself to move, making sure that he didn't break the circle he crawled towards his brother. Dean was choking, body convulsing as he lay helpless to do anything but breathe in the noxious atmosphere.

"Dean...DEAN…"

Scooping the half-full bottle of water from the floor Sam used his teeth to unscrew the cap. Holding his breath as best could he shrugged off his jacket ripping the seams to produce two rough squares. Soaking the fabric he folded it tying one piece around Dean's mouth and nose and the other around his own hoping that the mask would afford at least a little protection. Only then did he turn his attention back to the enraged deity.

The hiss it gave made his skin crawl and he couldn't stop himself gripping more tightly onto his brother. Dean moaned but Sam resisted looking down unwilling to break eye contact with the creature.

The racoon threw itself at Sam lips curled up, mouth open to bite, showing two rows of sharp yellow teeth ready to rip and shred. Sam jerked back pulling Dean with him but the deity slammed into an invisible barrier. It raged clawing at the unseen wall howling its frustration as it sought for a crack in the containment.

Slowly its fury died and it began pacing; pacing the inner edge of the circle's arc. Pacing and turning and pacing and turning never taking its glaring eyes from Sam.

"This will not keep me for long." It spoke in a long low drawn out sentence.

Sam had no doubt that the creature was right the protection would not last; its base was not secure, not permanent but he gave no outward indication of how worried he was.

"Long enough."

He grabbed the front of his sibling's shirt hauling him upward; he had to get his brother out of the hut and away. Dean groaned and remained a dead weight. Sam pulled again raising Dean onto his feet ducking so that he could wedge his shoulder into the older hunter's stomach then thigh muscles complaining he pushed up levering Dean into a fireman's lift and headed for the door.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The coolness kissed his skin and Dean let it caress, ease him down from the jolting pain which had encompassed him as his brother had carried him bodily from the hut.

"Dean…" Hands touched him, not checking or probing but giving comfort, almost but not quite stroking. "Dean you with me."

"Yeah… Yeah, I think so."

Jeeze was that him? Man he sounded weak as a kitten… 'What the hell?' Frowning in puzzlement he pawed ineffectually at the thing obstructing his nose and mouth. Sam leaned over and Dean could see that Sam's face was similarly masked.

"Dude you look like the Lone Ranger."

The skin around Sam's eyes crinkled with a smile. "Does that make you Tonto or the horse?"

Dean lifted his head making a derisory noise and instantly regretted it. The dull pounding throb which had become the norm upgraded to hammering and a groan escaped before he could clamp his lips closed. Tugging on the corner of the material covering his features Sam revealed the grin that went with the wrinkles.

"Hurts bad huh?"

"Listen to Mr Understatement."

Sam chuckled and leant over him again, fussing, pulling the fabric from Dean's face and using it to dab at the contusion on his head. Dean feebly tried to pushed Sam's hand away the last thing he needed was Sammy in freakin' nurse mode.

"You're bleeding again." Was all the explanation he got as his brother continued his ministrations.

Angry snarling followed by a yelp cut off Dean's further protestations. He glanced over at the hut apprehensively, wincing at even that small movement.

"Is that …"

"…the Racoon, yeah…" Dean felt Sam's arm slip under his shoulders as he spoke. "It's trying to get the Command Bracelet off. I trapped it in a Containment Circle as well but it's not gonna last long."

"Bracelet?" Allowing his brother to haul him into a sitting position Dean tried to wrap his tired brain around the fact that the racoon was wearing a bracelet. "Is it a good look on him."

"It's probably burning into its skin by now."

"Ouch!" Dean's exclamation could have applied to the racoon or to his wildly pounding headache; he really didn't know or care because… "S'mmy gonna…" He retched violently, moaning at the same time, ribs grating and choked.

Everything went fuzzy for a while, wrapped in pain and a struggle to breathe but gradually Dean became aware of Sam's hand rubbing slow circles on his back.

"Okay?"

Dean went to shake his head, managed to stop himself but created a whole new round of painful throbbing as he did so. "Sonofabitch" and he was about to add 'F**k' when a loud crashing splintering sound came from the hut and the fastened door visibly bowed outward.

"Damn it…the circle's broken." Sluing backwards Sam reached out to grab his rucksack. He dragged it nearer and opened it up.

Dean found a renewed anger at the object; Sam was f**king in love with that thing.

"What you gonna do stuff it full of Granola Bars?" He sounded bitchy, he knew, and the irritation was more directed at his own helplessness than Sam's Boy Scout readiness but he couldn't help resenting, however irrational, the damned bag.

"No." Sam's lips pressed into a firm line. "I'm gonna torch the sucker."

XXxxxxxxxx

"YOU THOUGHT IT WAS PAINFUL BEFORE BUT I WAS PLAYING, YOU DEFY ME NOW AND I CAN MAKE YOU _AND _YOUR BROTHER SUFFER FOR ETERNITY, YOU'LL _BEG_ ME FOR DEATH, _BEG ME!"_

Ignoring the creature's threat Sam squeezed the small yellow can in his hand squirting the lighter fuel over the half-rotten wood of the hut. The racoon, when the door refused to budge had thrown itself again and again at the wooden planked walls yelling threats escalating in malice and cruelty as the creature found itself still bound by the spell Sam had woven.

Sam, silently praying that the bracelet would hold the deity in the shack a little longer, worked quickly covering the base of the hut, spraying the accelerant in wide curving arcs over the white grains of salt he'd already scattered. Then stepping back he felt for the lighter in the pocket of his jeans.

Swallowing, he hesitated thumb on the flint-wheel but suddenly unable to bring himself to make the spark. He'd done plenty of missions where the final end game had been Salt and burn but never with a live subject. Plus the fact that he had no idea if this was gonna work? In theory, the practice should apply, his father had always said that lieu of silver or beheading, fire was the way to go. It wasn't ideal but it _should _kill the thing but this was a deity not some ordinary shapechanger.

The irony of calling a shapechanger _ordinary _was not lost on Sam and he tightened his grip on the lighter. Damn it, he couldn't let his idealistic sensibilities, the fear of failure and the retribution it would bring turn him from his course of action but then if this didn't work was he condemning himself and Dean to a life of captivity at the mercy of a capricious and now thoroughly pissed jailer.

"You're overthinking it Sam, just do it." Dean was right behind him voice low but firm and full of steel.

"What if I make things worse?"

Dean huffed a laugh. "Sammy if things go any further south we'll be in the f**king Antarctic."

A hand curled around his own, steadying it, a thumb pressing down, applying pressure and suddenly the flame jumped into life, gutting and flickering at first but then burning brightly and steadily.

Throwing the lighter Sam watched it tumbling, almost as if in slow motion, towards the hut until it thumped into its surface. A blue tide of flame ran over the soaked wood, curling and spreading so fast that Sam was unable to follow its path. In seconds the whole hut was ablaze.

XXxxxxxxxxxx

The surge of adrenaline that had invaded Dean's system, suddenly left and he sagged forward, leaning heavily onto Sam.

"Dean…hey, hey."

Dean could hear his brother but he was so tired and his body was so heavy. His knees buckled but he never hit the ground Sam's arms went about him, held him and took him gently to the forest floor where he lay dazed, head pulsing painfully. Slowly he became aware that Sam was talking.

"Dean…come on man no sleeping on the job."

He tried to open his eyes, he really did but the lids felt as leaden as the rest of him and refused to rise.

"M'nt slping."

His mouth felt kinda weird, not working properly, tongue too big, lips loose and numb and even as the flames heated his cold and clammy skin Dean could feel everything slipping away from him, distancing itself, telescoping away to a tiny pin-prick.

Whispering, hissing, creepy words insinuated into Dean's black world. His breath hitched catching in his throat as the depraved diatribe continued its assault. Dean's muscles twitched and jerked in their struggle to physically shy away from the voice's execrable insults.

"_Humans are debris but you Dean, you are so much worse. Hateful, beyond contempt, lower than the insects which crawl around my forest floor; loathsome, pitiful and weak." _

Sweat soaked through Dean's clothes each beaded bubble running, joining, pooling in the hollows of his body as he mumbled incoherently trying to break free from the hold the deity had on his mind.

The smell of wet fur, damp and corrupt, infected his nostrils clawing its way into his throat and lungs, smothering him with its stench.

"_Redeem your putrid existence and I will be merciful." _

Starved of oxygen, Dean abruptly arched back, bowing, arms rigid. His body tore from the safety of his brother's grasp, falling to the ground where he lay jerking uncontrollably as he tried desperately to suck air into his constricted passageways.

"_Dowse the flame, tear down the door, …RELEASSSSS ME."_

"Nnn..ooo." Teeth grinding together Dean tried to stem the shaking. Inside him, protected, was a small core of defiance unaffected by the deity's insurgence and he found that he could resist. He gave a silent whoop for Sam's geekiness in knowing about the clothes reversal and knew that there was no f**king way this sonofabitch was getting out of that hut. However, Dean was also aware enough not to add, even in his own mind, 'Over my dead body.' The reality of which was becoming more and more valid as the grey edges of unconsciousness closed in around him.

XXxxxxxxxx

Unprepared for the sudden jolt and flex Sam hadn't been able to keep his grip on his brother and Dean had rolled from him.

"Dean."

Heart pounding he scrabbled forward and laid his hands on his sibling's agitated form, pressing him to the damp ground in an effort to still the quaking and twitching. Something was seriously wrong and Sam's brain raced trying to equate the symptoms with what he knew about concussion but nothing fitted.

"Oh God Dean, please…" He stopped, it seemed for a moment to Sam that elder hunter had heard him because Dean quietened and mumbled turning towards him but then his brother's body tensed, head going back, mouth open wide and Sam realised after a long terrified pause of panic that Dean couldn't breathe .

No, no, no, no this wasn't happening; for the first time since he and Dean had set out on the hunt he felt the weight, the true horror of their situation. They were off the designated trails as far from civilisation as they could be and out of communication with no back up or the prospect of getting any, basically up s**t creek and then some.

"Dean." Sam quickly pulled his brother onto his side facing away from the burning hut and for an instant thought he could smell the racoon. He glanced up and around a little freaked. Had it got out of the shack? The area between them and the wooden building was clear but he couldn't see past the dancing shadows at the far edge of the orange glow. Uncomfortable and with the worrying fear that the creature was free he glanced down checking his brother and then back up to rescan the area.

Sam had to get Dean away but at the same time he couldn't leave. He had to know if the racoon had escaped, had to know because he couldn't let it remain to kill others and he couldn't let it catch him out in the open, vulnerable and virtually helpless.

The back to front folklore had proven effective in hiding his thoughts but Sam had no doubt that it was no defence against the deity's actual power. It had been the Confinement Circle that had protected them up until now but with that broken there was only the bracelet holding the creature. He'd hoped the racoon would have been forced to stay within the hut's floor space but you couldn't guarantee spell work there were too many variables. Now, as he watched the blaze dance and reach, he feared that as soon as the creature realised there was no limitation upon its power it would come after them fury and revenge bristling in every cell of its body.

Sparks spat out from the flames showering the grass with a myriad of tiny glinting flares. Deeper cracks and groans came from the structure as the roof caught alight sheeting flame across its sloped surface. Sam gagged as smoke thick and grey curled down from the burning wood enveloping him and Dean.

Eyes stinging and full of tears Sam felt for the mask discarded earlier, fingers blindly scrabbling in the dirt, groping for the wet fabric, the foul smog filling his throat and lungs, cloying, irritating his bronchial tubes until he choked unable to draw in a clean breath.

As Sam struggled coughing and retching an eerie wailing rose above the roar of the flames. High pitched and acute it occupied the whole clearing with its uncanny timbre. Sam blanched as it invaded his skull growing in intensity and in magnitude. He screwed his eyes, shook his head but he couldn't rid himself of the discordant cadence.

Lifting his hands from Dean's body he clamped them to his ears, covering pressing down hard in an attempt to block out the penetrating sound but it did no good. The cry continued in his head, amplifying in its potency, its strength and fury beating on him as surely as any physical blow.

Light abruptly flushed the clearing, bright and fierce with a searing heat. The flames roared leaping higher stretching up to the overhanging branches above licking the leaves with orange tongues and still the clamour grew.

Sam bent over Dean protectively his body shielding his sibling from the roasting heat but nothing could blot out the menaced howling. Beneath him Dean shivered and groaned head thrashing as he dragged in wheezing breaths, writhing, squirming to get away from the pain. Sam felt some relief that his brother was still alive but that rapidly dissipated as the elder hunter tried to curl in on himself blood trickling from his ears.

"Dean." Fighting the pain feeling the blood seeping from his own ears Sam unable to hear his own voice over the dissonance in his head screamed his brother's name over and over. "DEAN, DEAN," until his throat cracked with the rawness.

Suddenly the blaze collapsed in on itself sending a flare of flaming fragments into the blistering air. Planks fell and crumbled throwing up yet more fiery chips high into the canopy where they slowed, hung motionless and then rained down. Sam arched as the sparks scorched into his skin burning through the thin material on his back. Grabbing the hem he pulled his shirt up and over his head using the bunched cotton to brush frantically at the flaring embers which continued to pepper his torso.

The stench of burning flesh overwhelmed his senses, rising up at him from below and he realised with horrified comprehension that Dean's clothing was alight. The woven threads dissolving outwards in red smouldering circles spiralling tendrils of smoke as the plastic coloured emblem imprinted on his brother's shirt melted onto his flesh.

With brutal force Sam ripped the T from his sibling's body. Dean screamed thrashing catching Sam with his fists as he flailed wildly, unknowing of the danger, aware only of the burning pain. Beating at the charring, glowing cinders with his bare hands Sam smothered the smoking patches of singed skin, thankful for the bandages around his brother's chest. They had taken the worst of the heat only leaving Dean's shoulders and waist directly exposed to the searing wooden fragments.

Grabbing Dean under the arms ignoring his brother's pained cries, Sam heaved and dragged the injured hunter away from the blaze, hauling him bodily along the leaf littered floor until stumbling he fell.

Sam half lay across his brother waiting for his thumping heart and breathing to return to something like normal. Closing his eyes he cradled his head in his arms too exhausted to begin again. In the last few hours he'd used up the last reserves of his already much depleted energy, now his tired limbs felt like rubber and his body ached with an interminable soreness. Yet he had to get Dean away to safety.

Lifting his head Sam wearily pulled himself to his knees but was immediately assaulted by a renewed cacophonic screeching climbing and rising in pitch. Worse than before the clamour escalated and with dismay Sam saw within the heart of the blazing hut the ghastly configuration of the racoon rising, its shape rippling, rolling with the dance and sway of the jumping flames.

The creature's mouth was open stretching vilely wide as its voice howling and baying in agonising vehemence continued above the roar of the fire. Sam stared, a constricting terror holding him immobile half fascinated by the grotesque sight and half appalled that the thing seemed to have survived the inferno.

The incandescent beast still shrieking its wrath and pain dominated the hut's space growing larger and larger indistinguishable from the burning surroundings until it filled the fire, was the fire, became the fire.

Advancing small blue and yellow flares licked towards the two hunters, eating the distance inch by inch, gathering pace, rolling, expanding, cavorting in a joyous onrush until surging upward and outward it expanded, bursting, detonating in a scalding explosion of heat and flame.

Scorching air flushed Sam's skin, singed his hair, seared his lungs and spread agony as his blood broiled in his veins.

"Dean." It was barely a whisper a soft sigh of exhalation as Sam's eyes closed and his body folded, slowly collapsing down, losing the fight for consciousness.

XXXxxxxxxxx

"Dude…" Dean lifted his hand and smacked lightly onto his brother's back. He'd come too struggling for breath both from the pain and from an unfamiliar and excessive pressure on his torso. It had taken him not a small amount of time and a slight panic before he realised that his brother was laid over him.

"S…Sam, c..can't breathe." He smacked again harder and tried pushing but with no result. He was too weak and jeeze it hurt like a bitch.

"Sam…" It was only then that Dean's exhausted brain registered that this was anomalous that Sam was shirtless, didn't usually sleep draped across him and that Sam had to be unconscious or so far past exhaustion that he couldn't rouse. Dean huffed what little air he had from his lungs and smacked his brother on the back again.

"Sam, wake up."

Man, his brother was a dead weight, a freakin' huge dead weight. He braced his hands onto his Sam's side and applied pressure but the angle was awkward, the tall hunter was laid too high on Dean's chest for him to get sufficient leverage to push with anything like the effectiveness he needed.

Dean tried to wriggle free, slide out from under but the way Sam was planted across him there was little room for movement and the rough ground dug into the sore smarting skin across his shoulders making him grit his teeth with the added pain.

Stopping, consciously calming his breath Dean tried to take stock. They were outside the hut, which was a good thing. He hoped. He was in one piece although his skin felt sensitive, hot and taught, tight like a stitched wound. He tentatively flexed his muscles afraid that any slight movement would rip and tear him up and groaned. Dean's body still felt like it had gone ten rounds with a grizzly not a racoon and finally on the inventory on his body to add to his misery his recently ever present headache was ever present in s**t-loads.

He lay for a few moments trying to decide what to do and came to the conclusion very quickly that there wasn't much he could do until he managed to shift his brother.

"Okay Sammy let's have a look at you."

Talking partly to affirm to himself that he really was alive and partly to give himself a measure of comfort, something tangible in the chaos plaguing his head. Dean sighed and tried to take a deep breath slowly drawing in the air expanding his lungs bit by bit rather than the panicky shallow breaths of previously. It didn't clear his head of the pain but it defogged some of the hazy confusion.

Bending his neck he brought his head up along with a hand which he ran over his brother's skull checking for contusions, depressions and egg-like swellings. He knew that Sam was breathing because every breath his brother took pressed down on Dean's damaged ribs hurting like hell. Pulling his hand downward he felt for Sam's pulse aware that as he did so his fingertips became sticky.

Straining his eyes, squinting down he made a visual check. There was blood, small thin trails running from Sam's ear, tracking down the skin and disappearing into the deep brown curls at the nape of his brother's neck. Dean's newfound composure skipped out.

"Sam…Sammy." His pushes became frantic, worry curling in his stomach. His brother was obviously hurt. "Sam." The smell of burnt…something, the flush of red on his sibling's skin… "Sam." Although his intention was to increase the volume of his voice his yell came out as a husky rasp. "Sonofabitch." He pushed again. "Sammy."

Panting with the exertion and with the pain which had now begun reasserting itself with a burning fierceness, Dean had only the vaguest notion of what had happened after he and Sam had set fire to the hut. He remembered falling but the rest was a blurry confusion, apart from the sound.

It had been eerie, preternatural, he shuddered at the memory and it had penetrated his already pounding skull joining the discord, increasing his disconnection until it had grown so much that it overwhelmed all sensation. Delicately Dean's fingers went to his own ear and found the telltale dried rivulets adhering to the small hairs of his neck.

"Sammy." Again he smacked trying to roll his brother but pain sharp and white hot shot through is chest; he was pinned, helpless. Leaving his hand on his brother's back he rubbed and tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Come on Dude, suns up, rise and shine." It wasn't until he'd spoken the words that he realised that it was true. It was daylight or as light as it got under the forest canopy and he could see the trees on either side of him. He also became aware of the pungent smell of burnt wood in the air overlaying the other weird odour.

He squirmed, biting his lip as stones ground into his sore shoulders and strained up to see over his brother's back towards the centre of the clearing where the hut stood, only it wasn't there. Dean's eyes scraped over charred stumps breaking upwards from the smoking embers while the stone fireplace, scorched black, stood stark against the carpet of grey and white ash. A breeze disturbed the flakes wafting them idly to and fro shifting small piles, tumbling them into new softer shapes as they settled once again to blanket the floor. There was no sign of the racoon.

Sam stirred shifting his body.

"Ow..ahh Sam …stop. S**t Sammy…"

Dean heard his sibling groan and his body rolled compressing Dean's ribcage further. Gasping, desperate now for Sam to lift the crushing pressure Dean tried again to wake his brother.

"S..Sam? SAM." He became more insistent. Sam seemed to be getting heavier and his weight pressing down onto Dean's damaged ribs and hip was becoming unbearable. "Sam, pleeease…. wake up." He smacked his hand down again on his sibling's broad back for good measure even in his abused and bone-tired state he didn't want to sound like he was begging even if he was.

Once more pain lanced through Dean as Sam's head turned making his body shift position yet again.

"Sa…m…Sam." It was excruciating. "Dude… you GOTTA GET OFF ME."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Rocking, pushing back, not really completely conscious Sam responded to the urgency in his brother's voice. Blinking and with trembling muscles he forced himself upright, his vision blurred and unfocused as a breeze burned his skin caressing the damaged nerve endings with pain.

He shuddered his world had slowed to a crawl, movements and sound existing in slow motion, incomprehensible, unfathomable to his misfiring brain. He tried to think, follow the thoughts to their conclusion but somewhere they got lost, wandering without connection in his synapses.

"Saaaaaaaaam?" Dean's voice still recognisable as his brother's failed to have meaning the word strange and elongated. He watched the lips forming the syllables heard the intonation but as he stared intent on finding some significance he could make no sense of the issuing sounds.

Sam swayed a rolling sickness swooping in his stomach and he leaned forward bending, fighting against the nausea. Black dots dimpled his vision fading out the light around him as saliva filled his mouth.

"Sam." The warmth in the voice matched the heat of the hand on his shoulder. "Dude, you okay?" Swallowing convulsively Sam raise his head pain was now radiating from the touch on his skin.

"Do…n't." He squirmed, ducking his shoulder out from under Dean's grasp.

"H…hurts." The pain rushed the clarity back into his confused brain. Steadying himself against another wave of dizziness with a hand on his brother's chest Sam glanced about him.

He was in the forest, that's right he was …he paused looking at his brother who was now kneeling next to him looking decidedly ill himself. Sam tried to process the information coming in but it kept getting mixed up but one thing seemed to keep resurfacing overriding the other data; his suspicion, the smell of damp fur as he'd dragged his brother away from the fire, the flaming form in the heart of the inferno. He checked about him alarm striking through his daze.

"The…ra…acoon?"

"Toast."

"Y..y...you sure?"

Dean cupped Sam's chin bringing it around so that once more he faced his brother.

"If it was in the hut then yeah it's beyond extra crispy…"

But if not Sam silently finished his brother's sentence we're in deep s**t.

"W..we need to m.." His breath hitched as he moved, "..ake sure." Sam clutched onto Dean to get the leverage he needed to stand but his tired limbs faltered and he pitched forward into his brother.

"Sammy?"

Pain rocketed as hands grabbed at him the touch on his seared skin sending out hot needles of sensation. He sank down in a sea of hurt his receptors overloaded almost past bearing unaware that he was dragging his brother with him.

Both hunters hit the ground, Sam first, his breath exhaling in a rush as Dean's weight landed on him, crushing him momentarily before sliding to the right scraping across his sore, flushed skin, renewing the stinging torment. He held still, not moving, not breathing, not anything, trying to ride out the pain waiting for that time when it subsided to a level he could cope with.

Awareness slowly seeped into Sam's unconscious mind; awareness that one side of him was cold and the other a furnace, damn he must have passed out.

"D'n." He tried to move but found his arm was trapped under the weight of his brother the source of the heat running down the left of his body. "Bro?" He was rewarded with a groan and a slight shifting of the calidity. "You with me...Dean?"

Dean rolled pushing off from Sam causing the double sensation of shivering cold at the loss and hot pain at the touch. "S**t...Dean."

"M's'rry."

He could hear Dean's laboured breaths and he turned towards the sound trying to open his eyes. "Y'u o...kay?"

"Define okay." Dean's voice sounded stronger if a touch breathless and even a little pissed. Sam had a sudden inexplicable urge to laugh. How Dean managed to regain his equilibrium so fast in the face of such terrible odds he'd never know but he did know that he was thankful for it.

"Alive?"

"Then ...you could say I'm awesome... " It wasn't a long speech but Sam could hear with concern the wheeze as Dean sucked air back into his lungs.

"How's the chest and the head?"

There was silence and Sam heard Dean shift. He twisted ignoring the rise in pain levels as his skin dragged on the floor to bring his brother into view.

Their gaze met and Sam shuddered as the green colour in his brother's eyes, so reminiscent of the racoon's, caught the light, it distracted him and the sense of unease he'd felt returned. He pushed the feeling away this was his brother not some weird creature.

His sibling was still watching him seemingly waiting for what, Sam didn't know but eventually he saw Dean struggle to gain enough breath before he opened his mouth and asked.

"What the hell happened Sammy?"

Sam gave Dean the Readers Digest version. Hut burning, racoon in the burning hut, hut collapsing sending out showers of burning sparks, clothes catching alight. Then Sam pulling his brother clear of the burning hut, the appearance of the burning racoon and then Sam found he got a little vague not entirely sure himself what had happened but he ploughed on explaining how the racoon kind of went all big and Godzilla-like but still burning and then ...that was where Sam ran out of explanation and shrugged his shoulders.

Listening Dean had not commented throughout Sam's recount and then he remained silent after his brother had finished. Sam shifted uncomfortably under Dean's scrutiny feeling more like the 'little brother' than he had in a long while. Somehow he felt he had failed the elder hunter, it was how his father had made him feel and from somewhere deep inside the old resentment burned on inside as his skin burned on the out.

"Dean ...I…" He faltered stood shakily and walked away stupidly upset fighting with the feeling that he had to prove himself. Retreating back down the path towards the shell of the hut he tried to bring his emotions back under control. He knew that his brother didn't mean to make him feel inadequate and that much of the pressure he felt was self-inflicted but it didn't seem to stop his reaction.

Disturbed by Sam's footfall the ash swirled around flaring upward as he walked clinging to his damp jeans. Tears pricked at his eyes and he rubbed the back of his hand over them smearing the wet across his cheek. Now he was being irrational.

Sam never heard Dean's approach, never heard him until he was directly behind and even then he never suspected anything was wrong until hands, fingers closed around his neck.

Twisting, shock slowing his reactions Sam tried to turn and only half succeeded before Dean bore him to the ground squeezing, crushing Sam's windpipe.

XXXxxxxxxx

"_NO,"_ Dean yelled, screamed but other words came hissing from his lips_. _"Profligate, dissenter… Human," hate abounded this last utterance a hostility that seethed and boiled and finally manifested in Dean's hands closing, pressing down strangling Sam.

Fighting against the entity with every ounce of his failing strength Dean saw with horror his brother's face contort, mouth open in a silent cry as deprived of oxygen Sam's skin coloured from the tanned burnt pink to an angry purple.

It was killing Sam, it was killing him.

"_No don't …please don't…..I'll stay." _

He felt the Deity ease the pressure but it didn't let go and again Dean heard the hissing voice but this time in his head.

"_Stay…"_

It was neither a question nor a statement but it hung ominously a word in waiting.

"_I'll be whatever you want…just let him go."_

Beneath him Sam rasped in a lungful of air.

"_You want an acolyte; I can be that, I can do the bow down thing."_ Was he making headway? Was it listening?

"_He won't leave you."_

"_He will …I'll make him." _Dean had to believe that the clothes thing was still working because he was slammed down, out and out lying. He knew there was no way Sam would leave him and no way on this earth that his brother would let him remain in perpetual servitude to a Forest Deity. If, and it was a big if, it let Sam go Dean knew and trusted that the young hunter would come back for him all he needed was for Sam to have a chance.

"_Sam'll go if I tell him too." _Dean pushed all the conviction he could into his words. He waited but his hope was dying, destroyed inexorably as long seconds ticked by. _"Please."_

His muscles tensed, _"No." _Dean beat at the creature, over and over, moaning incoherently _"NO, NO, NO." _because he could not stop his hands clenching, fingers squeezing and Sam choking.

XXXxxxxxxxx

Sweet cool air rushed into Sam's deprived lungs flooding oxygen into his bloodstream and clearing his mind of the red fog but his relief did not last long as the fingers once again began to exert their pressure. Fear drove him on and he reared up taking his arms up, through in between his brother's pushing outwards. He broke the grip and scrabbling with his heels he slid his upper body away from Dean's outstretched hands.

Fingernails scraped down the skin on his ribcage as Dean clutched at him but this time Sam was ready. Flexing his knees bringing them up tight to his chest he kicked upwards, his feet connecting with his brother's torso. Sam pushed all his strength into the jerk up, kicking out, grunting with the effort, sending his possessed sibling sprawling backwards.

Panting heavily Sam immediately rolled bringing himself up onto his hands and knees putting distance between himself and Dean before turning, crouching readying for the counter attack.

It came swiftly, his brother, green eyes blazing with hatred, was on him in seconds covering the space between them with preternatural speed. Sam evaded the main brunt of the lunge but was caught by the shoulder and spun to the left. The tree trunk as Sam impacted felt very solid and the air whooshed out of his lungs but before he could draw in another Dean crashed into his back slamming him against the rough bark bearing down making it even more difficult for him to breathe.

"He said you'd leave and you will…permanently." Dean's voice hissed in his ear, Dean's voice but not his words.

Sam had realised the instant Dean's hands had closed around his neck what must have happened, that the racoon had somehow jumped into his brother but the creature had hit his carotid artery so fast and with such force that he'd been unable to take any counter measures. This time however he wasn't going to let it get the advantage.

Struggling weakly, head still dizzy from the lack of oxygen, Sam tried to dislodge the weight of his brother's body but he had no leverage with the way Dean had his upper arms pinned to his sides. Punching at his sibling's thigh Sam pushed his clenched fist into the muscle trying to incapacitate or at least make the entity ease up. What the hell else was he supposed to do? He couldn't _kill_ Dean, couldn't maim him and he'd prefer not to injure to his brother's already damaged body any more than necessary.

"He's mine now he doesn't need you any more."

Thrusting his head back Sam connected, crunched his skull into his brother's face. Dean would never have fallen for such a simple move but then this wasn't Dean. It hurt like f**k but he knew it had to have hurt Dean more because the constraint lifted. Instantly Sam pushed back, created space, ducked and twisted out from underneath.

Blood was streaming down Dean's face and Sam hoped that he hadn't broken his brother's nose. S**t he'd never hear the end of it if he had. He circled keeping the undergrowth between him and the Deity. His hand scraped across the trunk of the tree in front of him as he steadied himself still breathing heavily then Sam stared. The bark was silvery and peeling and as Sam stared and kept staring an idea formed, coalescing, something he'd read in one of Bobby's ancient tomes.

Flicking through dust covered yellowing pages in a rare idle moment he'd found a summoning, a ritual to invoke a forest spirit. It had piqued his interest and he remembered discussing it with Bobby who'd found the whole thing totally ridiculous. "Who the heck would want to perform something like that?" Sam smiled; he could hear his friend's gruff voice in his head "Idjits." But maybe it wasn't so ridiculous; maybe he could reverse it somehow. It was a long shot and probably totally laughable but he had nothing else.

Keeping a wary eye on the deity Sam took out his knife and cut several straight slender boughs from the Birch tree. Then slowly, praying that the entity would hold off, he circled the perimeter of the clearing until he reached the large root of an old tree sticking up from the loamy soil. Hastily he placed the branches in a rough circle before standing on the rotting surface of the stump.

The deity moved his brother's body, edging it closer watching him intently with those unearthly eyes. Sam's skin pricked under the scrutiny but he steeled himself to ignore it. Squinting up into the sky he quickly checked the position of the sun. It was setting. He turned his back on reddening sky, widened his stance and bent forward to look through his legs.

"Uncle Leshy depart thou, Agree to release thy servant from thy service and be gone."

For long moments nothing happened and Sam felt more than a little stupid then increasingly worried but when he was about to give up he detected a low hum vibrating, growing louder as it swelled sliding up the range to a piercing pitch. Dean glowed eerily a green aura emanating from him increasing in brilliance and luminous in the forest's quickening gloom. It dazzled, so bright that it hurt Sam to watch but he couldn't look away.

The light and the sound grew in intensity the green glow filling the clearing the hum throbbing through the earth beneath Sam's feet. He staggered unable to maintain his precarious balance, bent double and peering through his legs as he was. Stumbling from the stump he fell landing awkwardly on his backside cushioned only by the springiness of the leaf mould. Pain, nothing to do with his fall resonated through his body pulsing, in tune with the clamour in his head. Then, suddenly like someone had hit the light switch everything stopped.

The silence panicked Sam more than the piercing discord. Squirming round he scanned the clearing for his brother.

"Dean?"

Sam located the elder hunter a few feet from him in the place where he'd last seen the deity. Dean stood unmoving and Sam watched warily waiting for some sign that the deity had left. His brother looked ordinary, normal and his eyes; still green had lost the glowing manic look. Sam tried again. "Dean?"

Swaying Dean took a step forward.

"S..s..sam."

The whisper reached Sam just as his brother crumpled, his knees giving way, body falling forward.

Dean hit the floor with a sickening boneless thud and lay still.

XXxxxxxxxx

Leaning against a tree Dean winced, as trying to stem the blood which still trickled down his face, he pressed a wad of lint onto the tender puffy skin that went along his split cheekbone and over the bridge of his nose. His brother had certainly done a number on him but fortunately for Sam's future wellbeing he'd not broken Dean's nose although it hurt like crap.

Saliva pooled at the back of his throat and he swallowed mechanically against the rising tide of sickness. All in all he felt like s**t warmed up. Where the hell was Sam? Steeling himself against the headache, which had now reached gargantuan proportions, he squinted looking for his brother but gave up with a groan. The relievers Sam had practically forced on him earlier had kicked in taking the edge off the throbbing but they hadn't stopped the pain behind his eyes and the sharp stabbing sensation as he shifted his head.

Sam came back into Dean's field of vision busy with something or other and Dean relaxed slightly, carefully resting his head on the tree behind him while he tried to piece together what had happened. He was slightly fuzzy on the whole you were possessed thing and he really wasn't sure what heck had gone down.

He remembered listening to Sam telling him about the racoon and the fire but then he'd felt a sudden unexplained rush of unadulterated fury and the rest was fragmented, small flashes, impressions blurred and indistinct except for the clear sharp clarity of his hands choking Sam.

Guilt swathed through Dean and although he knew Sam would say that it wasn't his fault. It was. Somehow, if what Sam said was true then Dean had let the sonobabitch racoon get the drop on him. He berated himself he should have been more careful, should have been prepared.

Dean closed his eyes but the image of Sam lying beneath him haunted his vision and the keen anguish he suffered was still acute along with the angry frustration of not having been able to do a damned thing to stop it. He remembered pleading, offering himself up but that hadn't made an ounce of difference and now every time he thought about how he could have lost Sam Dean felt like his guts had been ripped out anew.

If Sam hadn't banished… he brought himself up short, the image of Sam upside down, hair framing a flushed pink face played in his head….what the hell _had_ Sam done to banish the thing? Dean gazed at his brother.

"What the hell was all that?"

Sam looked up puzzled.

"What?"

"All that standing on your head stuff."

"You saw?" Sam reached forward, looking embarrassed and plucked at the corner of the gauze that Dean held to his face trying to look at the damage. "How is it?"

Jerking back Dean glowered. "Don't try to avoid the issue."

Huffing Sam still didn't seem inclined to answer.

"So?…" Dean prompted and waited then irritated by the silence pushed again. "What was that?"

"It was a thing…" Dean detected a note of irritation in Sam's reply but he ignored the warning signal and let Sam carry on, "…I saw….at Bobby's a summoning and I thought …that it might work….if I reversed it," Sam shrugged, "….so….. I gave it a shot." He finished lamely.

Blinking at his brother incredulously Dean could hardly believe Sam's cavalier attitude. His mouth worked silently until… "You gave it a shot….Sam, I thought we talked about this." The whole Samhain incident was still a sore point with Dean, Sam had taken another shot smearing both himself and Dean with mask of blood 'hoping' that it would stop the powerful Demon from killing them, it had saved them but at what risk.

Shrugging again Sam reached forward and much to Dean's annoyance, avoided Dean's stare to focus on his brother's injuries. "It worked didn't it?"

Being unable to think of an instant comeback Dean ground his teeth in silence as Sam's long fingers prodded and pushed at the sore skin on his shoulders. Fortunately or unfortunately, Dean was definitely leaning towards the latter, the first-aid kit had been in Sam's backpack and by some miraculous means Sam had managed to save the damned bag from the fire as well as Dean. His resentment against the bag escalated to the point where nothing short of a ritual bonfire was going to satisfy his irritation because now, as he watched his brother extract the first aid from its confines he knew that he was going to have to endure 'Nurse Sammy' and his bedside manner.

Dean bore the pain stoically at first but was forced into bitching loudly when Sam dug particularly deeply as he tried to clean away the melted material adhering to the burns.

"Ouch, sonofabitch Sam that f**king hurts."

He hadn't meant to complain he wanted to prolong his pissed aloofness but the sharp sting and after-burn of the peroxide for some reason was harder to take than the pulsing ache in his torso and head.

"Hold still I gotta get all the fabric and ash out or you'll get infected." Sam bitched back, not letting up on the poking and dabbing.

His brother swabbed again "Ouch! F**k." Dean pulled away sharply from Sam's ministrations but then had to still, holding his breath, as pain shot hotly through his whole body.

Truth was Dean knew he was in a bad way and Sam was doing his best but it still f***ing hurt like hell.

Holding himself stiffly Dean let Sam continue his work but noted the redness of his brother's skin, the drawn look around his eyes and the tight line of his lips. Not to mention, Dean saw with a fresh swathe of shame, the discoloured ring of bruises around his brother's neck. Sam was hurting but wasn't saying.

"That's a bad case of sunburn you got there Sammy." Dean deliberately bypassed the strangulation marks the heavy weight of his guilt stilling his tongue knowing that neither he nor Sam were ready to go there yet. Sam snorted and dabbed at yet another burnt patch on Dean's shoulder. "Looks sore." Dean continued.

Sam dismissed Dean's concern with a, "Its superficial I'm fine."

Dean ignored the 'I'm fine' speech he'd given it enough times himself to give any credence to its platitude. "Pass me the kit."

"What?" Sam clutched the green box possessively. "What for?"

"I'm gonna perform open heart surgery." Dean reached forward, wincing but managed to pluck the container from his brother before Sam could protest further.

"There's nothing in there that will help." Sam tried to grab the kit back.

Dean looked up, "this is the one from the car, right?"

Sam nodded.

Pulling at the unzipped bag Dean dug into a far corner of the now much depleted pack and produce a small tube of cream with a flourish. Unscrewing the lid he squeezed a pea-sized sphere onto a finger and leaning forward smeared it on Sam's burn-flushed skin.

Starting back Sam shifted out of reach. "What ..."

"Antibiotic cream, do I need to give you the medical entry in the almanac, it'll cool and lubricate your skin as well as stop any infection."

"I know what it is but where did it come …"

Cutting off Sam's query Dean reached forward again wiggling his eyebrows. "Ah Sammy you have your Boy-Scout Back Pack and I have my Hunter's First Aid kit." He continued to lightly rub in the greasy lotion, grinning to himself at, in his view, getting one over on his brother.

"What about you?" Sam twisted so he could see Dean's face.

"What about me?"

Sam cocked his head to one side and Dean felt his gaze but ignored it studiously applying himself to smearing the cream over Sam's pink shoulders.

"Save some for yourself, some of your burns are pretty deep."

"I'm fine."

Lips twitched and then teeth showed and finally the dimples. Dean joined in the laughter holding himself tight against the increase in pain but enjoying the lightness of the moment. There was precious little to smile about in their life so these moments had to be filed away and savoured.

Half an hour later Sam had a small fire going and Dean was huddled close trying to glean some warmth from its meagre output. Night had come quickly bringing with it a stinging cold. Shivering Dean had tried to help his brother collect dry kindling but found that standing unaided let alone bending was beyond his current capabilities.

Dean's stomach grumbled, boiled water had warmed his insides but done little to assuage his hunger. For some reason he couldn't bring himself to even look at the granola bar Sam produced and apparently the 'Superbag' had run out of soup, well there was a first.

Shivering Dean watched as Sam leant forward to build up the fire, banking earth around it to keep it alight as long as possible. He then packed their dwindling supplies back into the rucksack before scooting in behind Dean.

"Sam?" Dean protested this 'position' was very close to what could be called spooning and he wasn't some damned girl that needed a cuddle.

"Medical Emergency." Was all Sam said as he pulled Dean back into his arms and then added. "Conserves body heat."

Dean 'allowed' the cuddling in the interests of modern medicine; to tell the truth he was too tired to complain and too cold to protest and as the warming heat from his brother seeped into his cold body his knotted muscles relaxed, the pain receded and he fell into an exhausted sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Stretching his stiff limbs cautiously Sam disentangled himself from his brother. Dean protested groaning in his sleep and scrunching tighter into a ball as the heat left him. Sam's lips twitched. Dean was gonna be so pissed when he saw himself in a mirror.

The results of Sam's back head butt had cause little permanent damage but the soft tissue on his brother's cheeks, across his nose and around his eyes was puffy and discoloured.

Dean resembled a racoon.

Two black circles ringed his brother's eyes and with the bruising extending across the bridge of his nose Dean looked like he had a mask across his face. Poor Dean sniffed by the racoon, held captive by it, possessed and now he looked like one. The twitching lips turned into a smile. Sam couldn't help it and he bit down on the inside of his mouth to stop the laugh which threatened to erupt. He shouldn't be laughing but it really was funny.

Checking the clearing Sam drew out his cell phone. God he knew he shouldn't but this kind of opportunity didn't come around very often. One click and it was done, recorded for posterity. Grinning widely Sam re-pocketed the cell before Dean discovered his treachery but he wasn't fast enough and two moss green eyes regarded him balefully.

"I'd like to know what's so f**king amusing that you need a keepsake." Sam didn't trust himself to answer but pulled out his phone and keeping it well out of reach from his sibling, held up the screen so Dean could see his picture. His hand shook as a snort fought to let itself free.

"I was just trying to decide which was cuter you or the racoon."

"Oh ha freaking ha." Obviously Dean didn't find his predicament as funny as Sam did. "You ever show that to a goddamned soul Sam and you're a dead man."

Ignoring Dean's threat Sam drew his eyes away from his brother's abused face and still smiling bent to coax the fire back into existence. He shivered as the mist-heavy air condensed and beaded on his skin. He felt strangely vulnerable without a shirt, knew it was irrational to feel that way but couldn't shake the feeling or the sense of foreboding.

He looked up peering into the grey shadows. Had he banished the racoon completely or was it licking its wounds, waiting to catch them off guard.

"What?" Damn Dean had noticed his apprehension.

"Nothing…just checking the perimeter." Dad had trained them both in field work and Sam knew that Dean would accept the explanation. He was right and his brother settled back huddling in on himself affectively shutting down any further communication.

Turning back to his task Sam tried to quell his misgivings; he and Dean couldn't have been more defenceless than when they'd been asleep. If the thing was going to attack again then that would have been the most opportune time for it to reappear. It hadn't but he still couldn't let himself believe that they were in the clear.

The small fire still radiated some heat so placing some dry twigs over the centre of the circle of ash Sam blew gently and was rewarded after some moments with a red glow and a small tendril of smoke. He added some dryish leaf litter and soon the whole pile lit with a small puff. Pleased Sam set about creating breakfast from nothing.

By the time Dean stirred again Sam had can of hot water ready. He watched as his brother sniffed cautiously at the bubbling liquid.

"Its just water."

"Shame." Dean blew across the surface, took a sip and made a face at the brackish taste.

An amused huff left Sam but as he watched his brother continue to drink the sudden serious of their position closed in on him. Hell he had to get Dean off the mountain.

"How you feeling?"

Dean raised his eyes, looking over the rim of the metal container but didn't reply.

"Do you think you're gonna be able to walk?" Trying to make his enquiry casual hadn't worked and as soon as he'd finished Sam knew that Dean had picked up on his anxiety.

"Do I have a choice?"

The answer was obvious; no he didn't. Dean silently took another mouthful of his boiled water and Sam squatted down beside his brother to drink his own. There didn't seem to be anything to say they both knew the score, both knew that the odds on them getting down the mountain together and in one piece weren't good but it wasn't going to stop them trying.

XXxxxxxxxx

Progress was slow and much to his annoyance Dean'd had to rest every four or five yards breathing deeply to ride out the pain. Everywhere hurt, his head a constant background throbbing, spiked when he moved his neck, turned his head, blinked, thought but particularly his ribs and hip ached; jarred unmercifully by each stride he took.

"D'you need to stop?" Sam asked for the umpteenth goddamned time.

"No." Not trusting himself to say any more Dean took another step and tried to disguise the sharp intake of breath.

"Dean."

"Leave it Sam."

He went to move forward, past Sam, stumbled slightly and found his brother's arm around him. He tried to shake it off but nearly lost his balance. Sam tightened his grip.

"Sam I don't need help."

"M'not helping…m'guiding. See that fallen tree over there…s'just right for sitting on."

Limping the few yards to the tree trunk was agony the pains shot up and down Dean's leg and back each time he flexed his damaged hip and despite his protestations Dean found himself leaning on his brother as he was 'guided' but he didn't mention it and neither did Sam.

Settling himself carefully on the bark-stripped surface of the log Dean let out a long breath and tried to relax his tired and tense body. They hadn't come far and already he was aching everywhere and exhausted.

"Here." Sam held a bottle of water in one hand and four painkillers spread across the palm of the other. Dean looked up questioningly; it must have only been two hours since he took the last lot.

"You need them." Wearily Dean took the offered drink and downed the pills in one swill. Sam sat next to him and took a swig of water himself. Despite how upbeat his brother had been all morning it didn't escape Dean's notice how tired Sam was there were deep shadows under his eyes and more worryingly a slight tremble of his hand as he held the bottle. Sam was near exhaustion but putting a brave face on for Dean.

"You okay?"

Sam was definitely, deliberately not looking at him but took another mouthful, screwed on the cap then slapped his hand down onto Dean's thigh.

"Come on hop-along race you to the next bend."

Groaning as his brother pushed himself up and was gone jogging, albeit slowly, off down the shaded path Dean stood, stretching cautiously and followed, steps faltering on the uneven surface. He was struggling and as much as he didn't want to admit it he was worried. They had no food to speak of, no warm clothes, hell hardly any clothing at all and they were still several miles from the main trail.

Startled by a small sound behind him Dean shivered looked round then hurried after Sam as fast as he could. It wasn't that he was scared or even fearful as such but in his present condition he was in no shape to put up much of a fight if anything came at him. Then there were the trees, they unsettled him now, every rustle, every scrape of a branch sent a shiver of apprehension down his spine so that he kept checking behind him, twisting, gazing into the greenery for long minutes expecting to see those eyes.

The damned racoon had made him jumpy as hell.

Catching up to Sam seemed to take forever and by the time Dean rounded the bend in the trail the sweat was running down his back and chest and he felt like he was dragging a ten ton weight behind him. The effort it took to lift his leg and step forward was immense but he did it. Step after step after step, eyes fixed on a spot ahead, only kept upright by his sheer stubborn doggedness and probably stupidity.

Dean stopped. Sam was grinning.

"What?" There was something suspicious about that grin. Sam only got that grin when he was up to something. "You're ginning like a Cheshire Cat."

"I got you a present."

"Yeah right and I got the cake and candles."

Proudly Sam held out a stripling branch about three feet long and an inch and a half in diameter. "I got you a stick."

"I'll alert Congress." Sam looked deflated and that made Dean feel like a dick. "You got me a stick."

His brother brightened. "Yeah a walking stick…you know to help you walk."

"Sam I know what a walking stick is." Dean took the offered gift and tested it, slowly trusting his weight to its strength. It held and even had a slight spring in its tension. It was a good stick as sticks went.

"Thanks."

Sam was grinning again. "It'll take the pressure off your hip, make things easier."

Dean doubted that anything could make things easier other than being airlifted to safety but then that opened up whole new mess of ways to die something he'd rather not think about at the moment. He hobbled forward feeling like some ancient grandfather as he leant heavily on his 'stick' but it worked, well it eased the pain in his hip and replaced it with one around his ribcage but who the hell was complaining.

XXxxxxxxx

Sam frowned as he waited for his brother the daylight was fading and they hadn't covered half the distance he'd hoped to since morning. However once glance back at Dean told him that to push on would be a mistake.

"We'll stop here." He slipped his arms out of his back pack and dumped it at the side of the path.

It wasn't much of a track more a thread of less undergrowth winding its way through the trees but it seemed to be heading in the right direction if Sam's inner compass was working and it meant slightly easier walking for Dean.

He'd tried at first to help his brother, gotten away with it once but after that his assistance had been rebuffed in very ungracious terms and he'd not offered again. That wasn't to say that he hadn't hovered until Dean had sworn at him and told him to leave him the f**k alone. Then he'd taken to walking a little ways ahead, turning back and waiting, observing his brother as he caught up. He still managed to make Dean pissed at him but at least he was able to assess how his brother was doing.

Dean halted panting heavily and obviously resting all his weight on his right leg the walking stick out to the side steadying him.

"I'm good we should keep going." Dean's attempt at cheerfulness fell flat.

"Sit down before you fall down."

It sounded harsh but Sam was too damned tired to argue with Dean about the vagaries of his injuries and his ability to continue for once his brother was going to have to take orders and not give them.

Following his own advice Sam sank down onto the damp grass, leaning back onto the rough bark of the tree behind him. His muscles were trembling with fatigue and cramping. He was dehydrated. Slowly he pulled his pack open and found the water bottle it had about two mouthfuls left in the bottom.

"Drink?" He held up the container towards his brother.

Dean stumbled the last few yards, took the bottle and settled himself down awkwardly on the grass between the roots of the tree.

"Thanks." Dean drank and offered the bottle back.

"Nah you finish it, I'll get some more there's got to be a stream or something around here there's been enough rain to drown an army, I'll fill it later."

In the silence Sam heard the swish of water as Dean gulping the last few drops. He licked his lips, his mouth was dry and his head woozy but he reckoned all he needed was a couple of hours sleep and he'd be fine.

"Sam?" His brother's voice was gentle almost a whisper.

"Yeah," and when nothing more was said Sam added, "M'okay." His eyes closed and the weariness he'd been holding back all day descended like a heavy cloud pinning his limbs where they lay and shrouding his mind with sleep.

XXxxxxxxxx

"You go." Dean was staring at the ground in front of him.

"What!" Startled at the suggestion Sam studied the dejected form of his brother as he tried to find the words to express his protest. "No."

Sam had woken at sunup head pounding, checked on a still sleeping Dean and then dragged himself up to go look for a stream. He'd found one about fifty yards from their path, knelt filled the bottle, drunk it down and filled it again. The queasy nausea abated somewhat and he'd been feeling a whole lot better about their chances until Dean had whammied him with the 'You go for help I'll stay here' routine.

"Sam it makes sense. You'll be faster. I can hardly put one foot in front of the other without a fit of the wobbles. I'm not gonna make it ten yards down the path let alone miles."

"I'm not leaving you."

"You're gonna have to."

"NO." Dean's head came up as Sam continued resolute. "Either we both go or we both stay." His breath came in rapid shallow pants as his throat constricted with emotion. S**t he wasn't going to cry and neither was he going to leave his brother alone on the side of a goddamned mountain. "We leave in half an hour."

How could his brother even think that he should leave him? Yeah it was the practical thing to do. It's what Dad would have done but then Sam wasn't Dad. No, he reaffirmed his resolve; he wasn't going to leave Dean.

"Sammy… I..I can't walk any further and you can't carry me."

It was a big admission and Dean's voice broke, hitching as his eyes pleaded with Sam not to argue, to accept the truth that was obvious to both of them.

Sam choked back his own threatening tears.

"Dean…I..."

"It's okay Sammy, I know."

Sam jerked up and stared at his bother; no Dean wouldn't, not now, not in this situation.

"Did you just quote Star Wars?"

XXxxxxxxx

Dean squinted upwards at the sun trying to gauge how long Sam had been gone. His brother had offered his watch but Dean had refused knowing his sibling would need it to help him navigate his way out of the goddamned forest. As long as the sun shone Sam would be able to check his position, find south and take a compass bearing. It was for this reason that he and Sam always wore analogue timepieces with proper faces and hands.

"You'd be lucky to find yu'r way out of a bucket with that digital." Bobby had said cuffing him lightly when he'd caught a sixteen year old Dean drooling over some crazy all singing, all dancing watch advertised in a local paper.

Dean sighed wondering where his brother was now. Sam had been adamant that he wouldn't leave showing a gritty determination that was reminiscent of their father. Dean'd had to cover up how bad he was feeling and play on the physical practicability of his not being able to walk, pointing out that his brother wasn't Superman and so couldn't carry him down the freakin' mountain. If Sam had known that Dean's leg was on fire, his chest was knifing in agony on every breath, and that he couldn't f**king see straight then he would never have left but he bought Dean's game face. Trusting that Dean could keep himself alive while he went for help.

It wasn't as if Dean was lying, every step so far had been hard going from sharp twinges all the way up to sheer agony and it had drained him made him so tired that all he wanted was to lie down, so no he wasn't lying.

It was definitely hours since Dean, lump in his throat, had watched Sam check their approximate position on the map and walk of sight. The weight of the loss had settled over him in a thick depression and he'd lain unmoving for a long, long while staring at the empty path the blades of grass slowly unbending until there was no trace left of his brother's passage.

He'd fallen asleep, well passed out if he was going to be strictly accurate, having tried to sit up. Now he was awake he carefully added a few sticks to his inadequate but comforting fire and glanced up. In keeping with the luck he'd had so far the sun was obscured by threatening grey clouds so he couldn't gage the time of day from the sun's position or from the length of the shadows and fanf**kingtastic it was going to rain again?

He needed shelter. Dean risked trying to move again but all he got for his effort was an explosion of pain and a spectacular set of sparkles obscuring his vision. Groaning, holding his breath he waited but the torment stayed, pulsing intensely with every heartbeat, taking him over, leaving him unaware of the rain splashing cold on his skin.

Slowly, eventually, the pain receded. Dean shivered, the air was colder the light gone with the rain leaving a thin mizzle of mist hanging the air with moisture. The day had passed and he had no recollection of it. It should have concerned him that he was so vulnerable and exposed but the fire Sam had banked up and that he'd fed so judiciously had gone out and that small, small thing brought him to tears.

The dam broke, emotion poured through the cracks, through Dean unchecked. Waves of uncharacteristic despair and misery that rose again and again until physically and emotionally exhausted his wracking sobs subsided.

Shuddering both from the release and the cold Dean pressed his lips together the muscle in his clenched jaw twitching as he desperately tried to blink back another rush of tears.

"Damn it, get a grip."

He swallowed hard, he was gonna die in this f**king excuse for a forest unless he pulled himself together. He needed to get the fire going again. The matches wrapped in their waterproof bag and firewood, covered with large leaves were within easy reach; Dean blessed his brother for that. The boy might have a girly streak a mile wide but he knew hunting and he knew survival.

Trying to reach the pile of twigs Dean lifted his arm but that caused a return of the searing pain around his ribcage. Gasping he let his arm drop pulling it into his body cuddling his aching chest. S**t this sucked. Lying back Dean was tempted to let it all go, let the torpor he'd been fighting take him down but he couldn't do it.

Sam was strong, stronger than he was; if anyone could get through, get help, it would be Sam but if his brother returned to find that Dean had checked out then the elder Winchester knew it would probably destroy his younger sibling and he couldn't do that to Sammy.

Forcing himself to move, Dean gritted his teeth and sucked in his breath. The stress on his body was enormous and the pain immense but eventually he was rewarded with a small orange flame. It was _beautiful_ and Dean lay mesmerised by its dancing elegance before he added some kindling and its delicate energy roared into a blaze.

Closing his eyes, the heat glowing on his face Dean felt himself drifting again, the greyness floating over him. He knew he shouldn't give in but he was too tired to fight its thrall, too tired to do anything but fall into its waiting arms.


	16. Chapter 16

Sam hunched into himself his long arms wrapped around huddling him into a ball keeping the warmth within his body. He didn't regret leaving the matches with Dean but it was goddamned cold and the leaves and branches he'd piled up around him seemed to do little to restrict the loss of heat.

He'd kept walking trying to pound out the guilt he felt at leaving Dean. He shouldn't have left his brother and every fibre of his being screamed at him to turn back but he didn't. He'd seen through his sibling's bravado, knew that his brother was really hurting and had reluctantly faced the reality that Dean wouldn't make it much further. His brother's only chance was for Sam to go get help.

He walked a few steps then jogged a few, military style, until it was too gloomy to see the ground in front of him. Even then he considered pushing on but the risk of missing his step in the dark or falling off a cliff made him stop, acutely aware that he was all that there was between his brother and death.

Lying in the hollow Sam listened to his own soft breathing and the small sounds from the forest filtering through the dark. He stared out blindly, alert waiting for something more, for the snuffle and shift of a larger animal. It never came but Sam couldn't relax couldn't believe that the racoon wasn't out there waiting.

Part of him knew that he was being paranoid that the fatigue plaguing his body and mind was causing his apprehension but he couldn't shake the feeling and it was only the tiredness heavy on his eyelids that finally drew him into sleep.

XXxxxxxxxx

The buzzing seriously annoyed him and then there was the slight brush, tickle and the stinging itch as the goddamned things chowed down. Dean's mind wondered randomly what they ate when 'Winchester al fresco' wasn't available. He blinked slowly twitching his face muscles wincing at the tender bruising but hoping that the agitation of the muscles would give him some relief. It had no effect and in any case the movement didn't register on his upper body which was just as exposed as his face.

It wasn't worth the effort of waving the flies away, he'd tried but they returned within seconds to resume their picnic. It was slow torture and Dean had visions of being eaten alive, his blood slowly sucked from his body by thousands of tiny insects and all Sammy would find when he got back was a dried up bag of bones.

His melancholic mood had descended not long after sunrise. He'd managed to keep the fire going through the night by being miserly with the firewood, knowing that he wouldn't be able to gather more but as the sky brightened he suffocated the glowing embers with loose soil and it was like losing a friend. He was alone…except for the flies …he even began to miss the goddamned freaking racoon.

Shivering feeling cold even in the sun's full glare Dean tried to swallow but it hurt and he got half way but his mouth and throat were too dry. His hand tightened momentarily on the bottle lodged in its grip but then remembered it was empty. It was like a huge hammer blow, his throat constricted and tears would have pricked if he'd had any moisture left. He decided then that he hated forests and trees and branches and leaves and rain and f**king deities and backpacks and most of all he hated flies.

XXxxxxxx

Sam hit the main trail late in the morning of the second day after he'd left Dean. He turned downhill on the wide clear path, hurrying, stumbling in his haste to get to the camp below. His main aim now was to find help quickly and get back to his brother as soon as he could.

The path was deserted but as he approached the turn off for the middle falls he heard voices in the distance. He quickened his pace forcing his weary muscles to work harder and soon saw in the distance two figures clad in brightly coloured T-shirts. They were coming towards him slowly trudging their way up the steep slope.

"HEY." He used up precious breath and waved. They hesitated, heads turning talking to each other and Sam realised that he must look a sight, no shirt, hair wild, burnt, scratched and bloodied skin. "Please …I need help." There was more talking and then they continued, faster now, up the path towards him as he descended.

The taller of the two figures called out as they approached.

"Are you all right? What happened?"

Sam stopped gasping for breath, his heart beating rapidly.

"I..t's my brother…injured…need Ranger…hel..p."

Everything spun, black speckles dotted his sight and Sam slumped to the ground knees giving way. He was blacking out, "No," he couldn't pass out now.

The neck of an open bottle was pressed to his lips and he opened up grateful for the cool water rushing into his mouth. He swallowed and coughed, his head clearing slightly.

"Please we've got to get help to my brother. I had to leave him back there…."

The woman was looking at him curiously.

"Are you one of the two young men who went missing last week? Students…Own a black car?"

Sam nodded.

"Y..yeah a 67 Impala."

"Oh I don't know what make it was but they called off the search for you three days ago. Something about not being on your logged route and no tracks 'cause of the rain. I heard that older Ranger saying something to that effect when we were in the office." She turned to her companion. "You remember."

"They called…off…." Sam stopped himself realising that he couldn't blame the Park Rangers especially after what Ranger McFarlane had said to them the day before they'd set out. Still light headed he twisted pulling his backpack from his shoulders and opened up the drawstring and ripped the map from the inside pocket pressing it into the man's hand. "Here I have the approximate map-reference…my brother Dean…Please..."

Sam rose on wobbly legs, he'd been running on empty for so long, kept going by sheer determination but he couldn't rest yet. Every minute counted and he couldn't afford to wait around for the rescue team, they could catch him up. He was going back for Dean now.

"Hey, hey." The man caught his arm, "Where d'you think you're going, you're in no shape…."

The voice faded as Sam's world suddenly telescoped down to a pin-prick, sluing sideways he collapsed eyes rolling back as he went down.

XXxxxxxxx

There was a humming in his head "hmmmm mmm mm hmmmm" It went on and on the same tune. "hmmmm mmm mm hmmmm" Air passing down through his nose the sounds vibrating in his throat. It was the only sensation that was real.

The hard ground on his hip and shoulder, the cold air, the pain none of it was real it was happening to someone else. Dean wasn't lying in a forest, he wasn't shivering, he wasn't thirsty or hungry, he wasn't…he didn't know what else, there was just the humming.

He hardly woke up now, spent his time lying underneath the surface of consciousness. Almost aware but not able to respond or directly interact. Like being in that state before you wake, partly in dream but hearing the world outside. It was better that way, here he didn't hurt as much. Out there it was all pain, deep and unrelenting and he didn't want that but when he did wake, he hurt and waited and hummed.

He'd forgotten what he was waiting for, only knew that he had to, that whatever or whoever was coming and he had to wait.

"hmmmm mmm mm hmmmm"

"Hey son...how you doing?"

There were hands on his skin, hurting him. He pulled away moaning at their harsh touch on his body. Thrashing weakly he tried to get away, tried to dislodge their insistent probing.

"Noooo." Dean pushed feebly at the strong arms.

"Hey buddy we're trying to help you."

"Hold 'im down, I gotta check him over."

The hands pushed down harder pinning him to the floor while others prodded making Dean cry out as bones and bruises fought back with a wearing, ravaging pain.

"Geese Kyle he's in a bad way."

The voices made no sense and there were more sounds and talking, distant and they weren't right, they weren't what he was waiting for. He struggled to surface, to clear the fuzzy confusion in his head he had to tell them he was waiting. He had to wait.

Panic ripped through him as the hands moved him fastening a hard restrictive thing around his neck.

"Nooo…pl…p..wa…t"

"We gotta get you to hospital buddy. You just lie back and enjoy the ride."

A stinging pain pierced his arm.

"No…" Dean tried to roll away.

"Goddamn it Kyle hold him steady while I get this line in."

Dean was being lifted, his ribs grated and he was shaking, trembling, vulnerable nothing solid around him. Confused he lashed out again moaning and writhing in the strong grip that held him.

The contact at his back was hard, stiff as he was laid upon it and then he was bound, tight bands around his chest, his legs but sensation was receding. A deadness affected him, he could no longer feel his limbs and like a rising tide the numbness washed around his body.

Fear travelled with it and his helplessness to stop what was happening tore at his heart. He need to wait, had to wait, Sam was coming back. Sam, he remembered Sam. Dean renewed his efforts to get free but he was too weak and his body refused to obey.

"Sam." He whispered and he held onto the name this time as slowly he succumbed to the anaesthetising medication.

Xxxxxxxx

The wheelchair was over by the door. He could make that but first he had to move. Sam stared at the chair as if the staring would bring it closer or by some miracle get him out of bed and into it.

He was alone now; the nurse had left the room having made him promise to stay in bed. Yeah right, like that was going to happen when his brother was lying in ICU two floors above him.

Sam had no recollection of being airlifted from the forest campsite or getting to the hospital or being examined. He had nothing until he'd woken in crisp clean sheets, the sunlight streaming in from behind closed blinds and a pretty brunette smiling sympathetically down at him.

"D'n." His throat was raw, felt like it had been sand-papered extra rough and he swallowed trying to find enough moisture to speak again.

"Don't try to talk, I'll give you a drink, just gotta finish checking your vitals."

He tried again a trepidation stirring in his belly.

"D'n ….my…br'th'r."

She ignored him, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around his arm. Sam tried to push her off but he was weak and she brushed his hand away lightly.

"Now be a good boy, we've been very worried about you."

"Dean." He managed to get the whole word out.

Inflating the cuff she was quiet, concentrating on the rapidly changing figures on the machine.

"Pl…se." His fear increased. What weren't they telling him?

"Good. That's better..."

Sam'd had enough he needed to find Dean and he wasn't going to do that stuck in a hospital bed. Flinging the thin blanket back he ignored the nurse's surprised gasp and gripped the cannula that attached the clear flexible tube to the back of his hand.

"Stop, no, you're gonna …"

He didn't stop. Yanking on the needle he pulled it roughly from his flesh and heedless of the blood welling from the wound swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room swayed or he swayed, whichever, it made him feel sick the bile rising and burning his throat but he swallowed it down and pushed off the bed.

The moment his feet touched the floor pain seared icy-hot and fierce, flaming up his legs in a surge an unstoppable tidal wave flashing up his body. Strong arms caught him and eased him back.

"Easy there lets not try to walk until we're feeling a teensy bit better. Now lie back for me."

Placing her hand firmly on his chest the nurse applied pressure. Sam still feeling like someone had lit the blue touch paper and left him to burn resisted but he was no match for this ninety-eight pound woman and she pushed him back onto the bed as if he was no more than a child.

"Dean." He whispered as the pain sank him back into the pillows his eyes closing.

It must have been some time before he woke again, hot almost feverish with the sweat sticking the starched sheets to his skin. Raising his hand he brushed the wet hair from his forehead.

"How you feeling Sweetie?"

The face had changed, still female, still sympathetic but with a blonde frame of curls.

Sweetie? Sam prickled but the nurse either ignored him or failed to notice. He plumped for the latter because she continued without a perceptible break in her commentary. Telling him that they'd been very worried about him that he was severely dehydrated, suffering from minor partial thickness burns, cuts – non-serious – and bruising.

Well tell him something he didn't know. Like where his brother was. He needed to know was if they'd found Dean, was he okay and where the hell he was now.

Sam struggled to sit up

"My b'th'r."

"Brother Sweetie?"

Was she acting innocent, did she know something? Sam eyed her carefully but she appeared to be genuine.

"He w…as in…ju..r'd"

"Here." Smiling 'Brenda', Sam read the badge, handed him a hospital bottle of water, one of those with a lid and a straw sticking up. Sucking gratefully the young hunter let the cool liquid soothe the dry roughness in his throat before asking again.

"My brother, Dean, he was injured up the mountain, did they find him? Is he all right? Please I have to know."

The woman patted his thigh.

"Don't you fret Sweetie your brother's upstairs…"

Relief hit Sam; they'd found Dean…

"…In ICU."

"ICU?" Heat and colour drained from his body like a bucket of freezing water had been thrown over him. He'd known Dean was bad but it wasn't, hadn't been life threatening. Had the deity come back? Had it hurt Dean more? Berating himself for leaving his brother unprotected Sam threw back the covers only to come face to face with a scowling Brenda.

"Where d'you think you're going Sweetie."

"I need to see Dean he…"

She pushed him back "You ain't going nowhere with those feet."

Sam was puzzled, feet? A ghost of the pain that had shot up his legs earlier, made his muscles twitch and he grimaced with the remembrance.

The nurse continued talking telling him that his feet were the worst that he was lucky not to have gangrene. Pulling back the comforter from the end of the bed she revealed something which had failed to register with Sam before, two bandaged feet.

Working deftly she unwound the white gauze on the one nearest to her revealing the deep angry gash running the length of his instep and numerous other cuts criss-crossing the pale flesh. Most of them were red and raised, weeping yellow puss along their length. Sam gasped as the woman's cool fingers touched his skin lightly.

"Still sore, Sweetie?"

That was an understatement. Craning his neck Sam peering down but was pressed back firmly again and told to lie still while she cleaned them and applied more anti-biotic cream.

Fire leapt up his legs as she worked and it took all Sam had not to pull his feet away every time she touched him, several times he'd had to suck in his breath quickly to prevent a cry leaving his lips, it hurt like crazy. He knew that he'd cut his feet climbing down the cliff and that it had hurt to walk for a while. Like new shoes rubbing but this was deep infection. How had he not felt this?

He shuddered his whole body feeling sensitive and delicate, her touch making it worse making his skin crawl, it reminded Sam of the time he'd not told Dad he'd been sliced by the horn of a Botis. The creature was haunting a small cemetery, lurking amongst the overgrown tombstones when it had decided to attack. Sam had barely turned around when it was on him but his Dad had brought it down with a well-aimed silver knife. Assuring his father that he was fine Sam hadn't mentioned the score all down his left arm where the Botis's horn had broken the skin.

During the night he'd got up, hot and thirsty, collapsed on his way to the bathroom for a drink and spent the next four days with a high fever. He felt like that now, slightly spaced out, clammy and shivery like his body wasn't his own but he wasn't going to let that stop him getting to Dean.

"I'm going to see my brother." He wasn't going to ask because 'No' wasn't an option.

"Maybe tomorrow, Sweetie."

"Now, I have to see him NOW…" Sam sat up trying to use his height to intimidate even though he was on a bed and the room was swooping in and out of focus alarmingly.

Brenda drew herself up offended by his insistence and angered by his aggression.

"You will remain in your bed until the Doctor has seen you and he won't do his rounds until tomorrow morning."

She ripped the sterile wrapper from a new bandage and began to wind the strip carefully around his left foot being a little rough.

"IF he says you can go up and see your brother and I say _if _then you can. I will push you myself but until then you will remain in bed…" regarding him severely she continued, "…we can and will restrain you." Carefully, having finished replacing the dressings, she folded down the comforter. "It's your choice, Sweetie."

This last 'Sweetie' sounded more like a threat than an endearment.

"Okay." Sam laid back feeling giddily sick, muscles twitching with small trembles but it was a false surrender. He'd spotted the wheelchair by the door.

"You promise you're not gonna leave this bed." She was holding the buckle of a restraint.

Blinking his eyes open Sam mustered his best puppy dog innocence. "I promise." He held her gaze for a moment and saw her soften before he closed his eyes feigning sleep.

He waited, listening to the sounds of Brenda tidying, felt her straighten the sheets around him and all the time willing her to leave so that he could implement his escape plan. Finally he heard the click as the door closed.

Now all he had to do was reach the wheelchair.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Dean was floating, which was weird because he couldn't feel the water swishing around when he tried to move his arms. It felt good though, warm and safe and there was nothing, no pain, no cold just a gentle glow around him and contented he allowed himself to drift.

It didn't last.

Voices indistinct and insubstantial invaded his dreams blurring imagination and reality together in a jumbled confusion. Hands touched his limbs, his body, and he struggled trying to get away from the pain of their touch. He heard his name in amongst the unintelligible sounds and tried to respond but the fingers were relentless prodding and poking, causing more and more pain as they touched and touched as they kept on touching and hurting and hurting beyond the ability of his fragile consciousness to cope.

Dean sank down again the noise receding and he was back floating, drifting away from the pain, away from the voices and from himself, back where it was warm and safe, back to a place he never wanted to leave.

XXxxxxxxxx

The hospital scrubs stuck to Sam's back as the sweat soaked the thin material. He felt hot and his skin prickled, over sensitive and tender. He breathed deeply trying to calm himself as black spots danced before his eyes and the blood rushed in his ears. He was _not_ going to pass out.

Getting from his room to the elevator had been easy. No one had looked at Sam as he'd spun the wheels of the chair moving himself swiftly and smoothly to the metal doorway of the elevator. No one had challenged him as he waited for the car and used his upper body strength to pull himself through the doors and there was no one waiting as the doors opened onto level five.

On the floors below the corridors had been busy, crowded with patients, doctors, nurses and a myriad of visitors; nobody noticed him or his wheelchair but here the harsh light and hustle of the main hospital had given way to a calm muted atmosphere. Nurses sat at desks or stood talking in hushed tones bathed in diffused light.

Staring down the corridor Sam had leant his heated forehead against the cool steel of the elevator and wondered how the hell was he going to get to Dean undetected. An insistent buzzing accompanied by a flashing red light had provided the opportunity producing a flurry of activity which had for a few moments left the foyer in front of the elevator empty.

Wasting no time Sam had launched himself across the space scooted around the tall desk that partitioned off the nurse's station from the rest of the area and read the names written on the large white board. The board set out like a plan had Dean's name, Dean Seague, in red about halfway down next to room number 534. As quickly as he'd come Sam had set off checking the numbers beside each door as he wheeled himself past.

His brother's room was the seventh door on the left and holding the handle down with his elbow Sam had awkwardly manoeuvred himself inside, the wheels squeaking on the shiny floor-covering as he turned towards the solitary hospital bed dominating the centre of the room.

Sam drew in a sharp involuntary breath, his eyes widened and a sickening dizziness spun out of control as a fresh flush of heat rushed to the surface of his skin. He felt faint and struggled to pull himself back from the brink of unconsciousness as he stared at his brother. The inhaled breath now rushed from him, he'd been prepared for Dean to look horrendous with machines beeping and tubes sticking out of him; you didn't get a bed in ICU because you had a few scratches but what he wasn't prepared for was, in amongst all the paraphernalia, how small and young Dean looked.

To Sam his brother had always been strong and vital and although Sam himself was physically taller Dean had always to him been the 'bigger' of the two. It must have something to do with being the younger brother but now as Sam slowly approached his brother looked like a little battered kid, black-and-blue bruised and swamped by the white sheeted bed upon which he lay.

"Oh God Dean." Sam's voice was a trembling whisper and his throat grew tight as he swallowed. Reaching out tentatively he stretched his fingers to touch but pulled back suddenly afraid that he might hurt his brother further.

"Dean?"

The room stuffy and overheated closed in around Sam and he felt weak and light-headed his energy suddenly expended. He'd put so much effort into getting here and now that he was he didn't know what to do or if there was anything he could do.

Wheeling the chair as close to the bed as he could Sam gazed at his sleeping brother. Dean still looked like a racoon the band of discoloration around his eyes and across his nose standing out in stark contrast to his skin, pale despite the pink burnt flush. Sam could also see that the mass of bruising covering Dean's torso had spread further storm-clouding across his brother's chest and stomach, disappearing down underneath the light cover.

Biting on his lip Sam looked once more at his brother's face and up to the white dressing pressed to his temple. How bad was Dean's head injury? Fear tore at Sam's heart, what if Dean …he found it hard to even think the possibility.

"Dean, bro…" His breath shuddered out, "Man, you gotta get better…I don't wa…" Sam swallowed and dropped his gaze to the floor. "I can't do this without you."

XXxxxxxxx

Jeeze he had a headache to end all headaches, a throbbing, pounding, hammering headache and his mouth was dry and his eyelashes felt like they were glued together. Not that he wanted to open his eyes, no, he knew that would be a stupid idea.

His mind was clearer, he observed, the hazy confusion that had filled it earlier had dissolved but it still hurt too much to think properly but the thoughts kept passing through anyway some lingering into full 3D colour, some merely fleeting impressions of scenes and feelings. It was all fairly random but Dean didn't care as long as he didn't have to make any effort.

It was the effort thing that was causing him the most trouble. A nagging expectance that he ought to be somewhere or be doing something and that the onus was on him to get off his butt and go or do. Several times he'd brushed the fret aside hoping it would desist and leave him to the peaceful drifting that demanded nothing more than for him to lay where he was. Yeah drifting was the way to go.

Light played on his eyelids adding its insistence to the internal bugging. Dean groaned, s**t he was gonna have to wake up and open his eyes and accept the headache and all the other aches as his.

"Dean?"

The voice was too loud and Sammy's.

"You awake?"

Yeah definitely Sammy, no one else asked dumb questions like that.

"No." It came out as a croak rather than a word. Sharp pains criss-crossed his chest and he gasped at the hurt and for breath and then something cold, wet and slimy was pushed against his lips. He opened up like a baby and the ice slid into his parched mouth feeling wonderful as it lay on his tongue melting, trickling into his throat and soothing his growing urge to cough.

"You're in hospital."

'_No s**t Sherlock.'_ Dean thought and then wished he hadn't as his head pulsed painfully almost popping his eyeballs.

"You gonna open your eyes."

'_No' _thought Dean again_, 'Not if its gonna hurt that much just thinking about it.' _ He again fought the urge to cough and again the knives sliced his ribcage.

Breathing became somewhat of an issue.

Pain bathed his body centred on his chest, wrapping around his ribcage up his back and across his shoulders. Dean rasped in a breath but that only made the torment worse. His whole side was on fire. He panicked his lungs craving oxygen but his mind feared the pain that another breath would bring. He fisted the sheet twisting it in his fingers in an effort to control his respiration but eventually his need for air overcame his dread. Every reluctant shallow pant brought further agony.

"Sss'm."

He perceived rather than saw the flurry of activity around him but he was hurting too much to pay attention. Gasping, chest heaving, heart feeling like it was being squeezed out of existence Dean felt a grip on his arm.

"Dean hang on….I gotcha." It grounded him, zeroed him back into the hospital room. Sam was there he wasn't on the mountain there was no racoon but s**t his chest was a mass of ripped and tearing pain.

"H'rts S'm."

The grip tightened. "I know, Dean I know and they're gonna help you."

"GET him outta here." It was stiff clipped articulation full of urgent authority.

The grip left him. Dean aware enough to realise that this order was directed at Sam, gulped in air but his gasp of 'NO' turned into a cry of anguish as cold steel, sharp and unyielding pushed through his skin and in between his ribs. His body arched struggling to get away from the torment.

"Hold him still." Hissed the authority.

Firm hands took him by the shoulders, the arms, his hips and pressed him down into the mattress; restraining him. More pain exploded inside Dean's body the searing stinging torture continuing on and on and on.

XXxxxxxxx

Pushed roughly out of the immediate way Sam had backed up ready for a fight determined he was not going to be sidelined and forced into leaving his brother but after the initial barked instruction nobody paid him any attention. All the focus was on the stricken man in the bed.

Sam had been pleased and relieved when Dean had shown signs of waking but his eager delight had been short-lived. From a seemingly calm place his brother's body had tensed the ribcage going into spasm, breaths coming in short staccato pants.

Sam, clutching onto his brother's arm hit the call button and kept his thumb pressed down squeezing the handset hard unaware of the edges cutting into the flesh of his palm.

Dean couldn't breath properly and was in obvious pain, he called out and Sam tightened his hold unable to do to more than let his brother know he was there with him.

It must have only taken seconds for the hospital personnel to arrive but to Sam it was hours as he helplessly watched Dean writhe and gasp for air. What the hell was wrong? The elder hunter had been getting better Sam was sure of it; the colour had returned to his brother's features, Dean had answered a question and at one point Sam could have sworn that his semiconscious sibling was trying to open his eyes.

A harsh jangling cut into Sam's horrified stupor. A metal trolley laid with surgical instruments had been rushed into the room and the white-coated woman was reaching for a scalpel. The young hunter swallowed convulsively his fear tightening his throat and again he felt hot and faint. What were they doing?

The doctor with an urgent but confident stroke pierced the upper side-wall of Dean's chest with the curved blade. The glinting metal disappeared deep into the wound slicing an inch long cut. The scream that left Dean's throat had Sam up and moving forward heedless of the pain from his infected feet; his attention fixed on his brother.

"Hold him still." The instruction was barked irritably at the bodies around the bed.

Orderlies and nurses pinned the struggling hunter to the bed. Blood oozed from the incision dripping down Dean's side to be soaked up by the bedsheet in an ever-widening stain. Then two rubber gloved fingers were pressed roughly into the wound, scissoring open the cut as a tube was fed into the gap. A loud hiss filled the room and Sam saw Dean go limp and slump.

"DEAN!"

Sam full of alarm darted forward but was met by a hand pushing him in the chest.

"Mr. Seague the younger, I presume." The doctor a full head and shoulders smaller than Sam still managed to be intimidating. The medic bore down on Sam and suddenly the pain in his feet registered with a vengeance. Sam collapsed, knees giving way as the adrenaline left him but fortunately someone had wheeled the chair up behind him.

"What's wrong with him, what's wrong with Dean?" Sam breathed his concern, eyes never leaving the bed.

"Your brother has suffered a pneumothorax. In layman's terms a collapsed lung. Air has been leaking into the space between the wall of his chest cavity and his lung."

A vague notion of how serious a condition that was penetrated the numb inertia which enveloped Sam but the doctor continued before the hunter could get his brain in gear enough to ask a question.

"It probably happened when one of the broken ribs nicked the lung and it's been leaking air for a while, like a slow puncture. When he was brought in your brother was stable there was no need for intervention but in these cases a simple pneumothorax can develop quickly into a life threatening episode…as you saw." He paused allowing Sam to assimilate the information.

"He's …."

"He's fine for the moment and we are monitoring him closely. We've put in a shunt to relieve the pressure and hopefully his lung should re-inflate on its own. We're going to sedate him because any movement of the ribcage could aggravate the situation. Then he's going downstairs for an x-ray so that we can determine the extent of the damage and I tell you now that if he doesn't improve your brother may need surgery to repair the tear."

Surgery, shock drained the last dregs of energy from Sam as he continued to stare at the still form of his brother.

"Now Mr. Seague you must go back to your bed." The doctor turned to the orderly hovering nearby. "Wheel him back…"

The orderly took hold of the handles of the chair and was manoeuvring Sam backwards before he managed get his protest out.

"No…please no. I want to stay with Dean." The thought of leaving Dean alone was an anathema to Sam. He couldn't let his brother down it already felt as if he'd left a man behind and he wasn't going to do it again. He glanced at Dean and then back to the Doctor in silent adjuration.

She smiled at him, looking more kindly now but shook her head her chestnut curls softly bouncing and settling as her voice although charming held the patronising tone that was entirely unique to medical people when they talked to 'relatives'.

"Your brother is receiving the best care that we can give him. There is nothing you can do. You're burning a fever, in pain and you need rest and so does your brother. He doesn't know you're here or that anyone's here. Go back to your room and wait or I will be forced to call security."

Sam stared at her immobile and in those seconds the reservoir filled and the damn burst. All the vexation, all the pent-up anxiety, the fear and the anger came crashing through, pouring out of him in an unstoppable tirade.

"I DON'T NEED TO REST NOT WHEN…WHEN DEAN'S LIKE THIS AND YES THERE IS SOMETHING I CAN DO _DOCTOR,_ I CAN BE HERE FOR HIM LIKE HE WOULD BE FOR ME." Red in the face and out of breath Sam gripped the side arms of the chair. "HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS I'M HERE… He's got to know…." Sam faltered his anger and body exhausted. Sobs wracked his frame tears wet his face and his body trembled with the frustration and distress.

"Mr Seague, its Sam isn't it?" She was crouching in front of him. "I'm sure your brother knows you're here but as I said I've sedated him and so he's pretty much out of it." She put a hand on his arm in a gesture of contrition. "You can stay until he goes down to x-ray and then I want you back in your bed and asleep…" She smiled, "Doctors orders."

Sam managed a half smile back and smeared the tears across his face with the back of his hand feeling all of six years old. Standing she issued her orders.

"Sam can stay here with his brother until Mr Seague senior goes downstairs and then I want you to escort him back to his own room." She left no doubt that there would be consequences if her instructions weren't carried out but Sam wasn't listening anymore he'd moved the wheelchair as close to the bed as he could, watching the slow rise and fall of his brother's chest.

XXxxxxxxxxx

Lying still his eyelashes tickling his cheeks, lips slightly parted and dry with breath Dean had been aware for a while but too tired and too weak to do more than flicker his eyelids open for a few seconds. It was enough though to see Sammy slumped, leaning on the bed, tousled head resting on his folded arms.

Dean felt like he'd been kicked by a mule, not that he knew what that felt like but he could imagine pretty well and he pitied the poor b*****d who'd coined the phrase if he was freaking hurting as bad as Dean was.

Sam shifted slightly and Dean felt his brother's head bump his thigh and settle with a light pressure on his leg. It was comforting, knowing that Sam was with him. Those last few hours on his own in the forest had been amongst the worst in his life and if he had his way they were never going near a f**king forest or even a tree, ever again.

A door opened somewhere off to his left and he heard soft squeaking footsteps approach. Cool fingers pressed lightly to his wrist rested a few moments and then lifted. She hadn't needed to take his pulse that way, Dean could feel the sticky pads of the sensors against his heart and in several other places he'd rather not think about but he couldn't blame her for wanting to touch a great piece of real-estate. He grinned inwardly; there were perks to being in hospital.

His brother moved again and he felt the weight lift from the bed.

"Hey."

'…_hands off Sasquatch she's mine.'_ Dean thought,

"How's he doing?" Sam was asking stupid questions again but then Dean re-thought.

'_Yeah….How am I doing? 'Cause it hurts like crazy over here.'_

"Your brother's doing great considering what he's been through."

'_You tell him sweetheart.'_

She patted Dean's arm rubbing it gently and he was enjoying the contact. I mean Sammy was fine but a hot nurse, well she sounded hot and her touch was silky soft and he imagined …he pulled himself from his reverie she was saying something else.

"…surgery was successful. He just needs his meds now and plenty of rest. "

'_Yeah give me some of those meds…wha…wait SURGERY? He'd had surgery?' _His whole body gave a lurch of shock and he jerked up from the bed.

"Ss..a…"

He crashed, choked, throat burning, tried to draw in air but everything was too tight, it wasn't enough, his chest heaved and pain speared hot and sharp. He struggled with the unhealthy lethargy holding his muscles but it made things worse and he couldn't catch his breath and everything, everything was closing down.

XXxxxxxxx

"DEAN!"

Sam was on his feet; again. It was pure instinct. One minute his brother had been sleeping peacefully and then he was writhing making a horrible choking sound like he was ….he was dying.

"What is it? What's happening?"

Had his brother's lung collapsed again or was it something worse. He fisted the material of the comforter pulling it taught as he fought his own pain to remain standing. He had to help Dean but he had no idea what the hell was happening and the nurse wasn't moving she was standing stroking his brother's arm like everything was okay. Couldn't she see that Dean was….he wanted to scream at her, shake her.

"DO SOMETHING." Sam's brain couldn't grasp the implication of her inactivity.

"I am." She smiled sweetly at him and it did cross his mind with a clutch to his heart that she might be a demon. "I'm waiting and seeing." Continuing to stroke Dean's arm she quietly called his brother's name. "Dean. Dean. Just relax and you'll be fine."

Sam couldn't help thinking that this was some kind of new definition of fine. It looked to him as bad as before when every auxiliary, nurse and doctor had come running in to help but as the clock on the wall ticked and Sam waited in heightened anxiety finally… finally Dean seemed to be responding. The rasping breaths became calmer, deeper and his brother's body eased.

The nurse patted. "That's better. Now let's try that again without the panic button shall we?"

Dean's eyes fluttered open his pupils dark and unfocused and then closed again.

"Okay now slow even breaths. In…and out."

Sam watched his own breathing unconsciously taking on the same rhythm.

"That's right," she looked up at Sam, "He just took things too fast got himself in a bit of a tiz, didn't you kitten." She patted Dean's arm again.

Kitten? Sam raised an eyebrow and couldn't help a smirk as he saw Dean's pained expression at least his brother was conscious enough to object to the pet name.

"Yeah, he's not the first and he won't be the last. They try to take in too deep a breath, it irritates the membranes and sets off a chain-reaction, Panic, rapid breaths, more irritation more panic. Sometimes they pass out before it all calms down. I'll top up his meds and then you'll be more comfortable won't you kitten."

She disappeared out into the corridor the door swinging closed behind her.

"S'm." His name was whispered Dean's lips barely moving.

"Yeah?" Sam leaned forward. "You hurting bad?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Sam?"

"Yeah?

"She's hot …right?"

It took a few moments for the meaning of Dean's question to come crashing in on Sam's concerned attention but when it did he wanted to hug and smack Dean all at the same time.

Rolling his eyes upwards Sam huffed and then after an agonising pause gave up being cross. "Yeah, Dean she's hot."

Dean sighed. "Thank God for that…it'll be worth the pain of opening my eyes."

This time Sam did smack Dean, lightly.


	18. Chapter 18

Well this is it, the last chapter.

_Thank you - to all those who have kept with me and read and to even more thanks to those who have reviewed. It is good and encouraging to know that people are enjoying the story. I have few other stories which I shall be posting in due course and I hope that you will join me for those too._

_Thanks again to you all._

_Steffs_

Chapter 18

Three days, it had been three days before they let him have solid food and then it was hospital cuisine. Jell-o wasn't on Dean's list of substantial stomach filling comestibles but for the first day it was all he'd been able to keep down that and soup. However nobody seemed to have got the memo that he was feeling better and for the last two days he'd been presented with Jell-o or soup as his main course; neither of which in Dean's book counted as a square meal. Someone, a someone who never knew how close to death they'd come, had offered him a Granola bar but had quickly withdraw when Dean had growled at him.

In desperation Dean had called Bobby more than once to come spring them both but the hunter had told him that he was an idjit _and_ a moron for even thinking about leaving until he was at least able to sit up unaided and that he, Bobby was not gonna drive halfway across the country because Dean needed his ass wiped. Dean'd had shut the phone off on a still muttering Bobby with more than a sneaking suspicion that Sam had got there before him and poisoned the ground.

He stretched up as far as the burn in his chest would allow and tried to see out through the observation window. The mouth-watering aroma that always accompanied the food cart had wafted his way over half an hour ago and he'd heard the chink and clink of plates and cutlery but so far nothing had arrived. His pathetic eagerness for the chicken and rice he'd ticked on the menu card was embarrassing along with the slight whoop he'd let out when no one had objected to his choice but food was food and anything had to be better than green jell-o.

For about the nth time in the last half-hour Dean wondered where the hell Sam was. His brother had been a constant presence, hovering over him, tucking him in passing him stuff and reading aloud from some boring magazine. Confirming forever Dean's belief that his brother was a closet girl but now when he could be really useful and go get Dean's meal, Sam was nowhere to be seen.

It was hospital policy that Dean remained on the Thoracic Ward and Sam on a General Ward and no amount of charm on Dean's side or restrained anger on Sam's would persuade the ward sisters to bend the rules and put them together. So despite the fact that Sam's feet were in a mess and he was still running a low grade fever, every day he'd demanded that he was wheeled up to Dean where he stayed until the nightshift insisted that he returned to his own room.

Actually it was at Dean's insistence that Sam had gone back to his own bed for Doctors rounds. His brother put a brave face on things but Dean had seen a hot flushed Sam wince more than once as he shifted in his wheelchair and he was worried that the youngest Winchester was pushing himself too much. Sam had protested but Dean pulled the big brother card and watched as his sibling wheeled himself away to submit to an examination.

Checking the clock Dean frowned it was five after one. Doctors rounds were always in the morning, Sam should have been back. Dean's irritation at his brother's non-appearance morphed into concern. He felt around, found his cell under his pillow and pressed the speed dial for Sam. It went straight to voice-mail. He tried again, still voice-mail. Pressing the red telephone symbol Dean rubbed his thumb over the key mulling over his options.

Throwing back the light coverlet and tugging down the cotton hospital gown to his knees Dean eased himself forward holding his breath. It didn't help; as soon as he turned his upper body pain ricocheted around his ribcage. Gasping, holding his side Dean swallowed back an expletive and held himself still waiting for the spiking ache to subside. He was tired of the pain, this s**t was getting really, really old and all he wanted was to be out of this goddamned torture palace but it was obvious even to him that if he couldn't get up off the bed he wasn't going to make it to the door let alone Sam's room.

Dean tried to lean back but his nest of pillows had rearranged themselves leaving nothing supporting his head and it felt awkward and uncomfortable. Trying to shift without causing himself more pain, caused more pain and again he had to suck in his breath and blink back the tears as torturous spears of hurt lanced up his side.

He gave himself a few minutes and shifted again.

"F**k."

This time waves of nausea accompanied the knifing agony and Dean breathing heavily felt sweat droplets running down his face and neck. Now he was stuck whatever he did and however, whichever way he moved he was gonna regret it.

Where the hell was Sam?

Muscles began to tremble as Dean tried to hold his position, chewing on his lip he was in the midst of a tentative roll when the door hissed open behind him. S**t he couldn't reverse and his hospital gown was barely covering the essentials.

"Here we are last but not least." A male voice, not Sam's, breezed into the room. A plate or something was dashed onto the overbed table and "Oh," then a pause, "You okay?…you want me to fetch someone?"

"No." The reply was a little too fast and Dean tried to turn a little too quickly to cover himself up. With a soft groan he collapsed his arms giving way tipping him forward to unceremoniously faceplant the bed ass in the air.

"Oh hey..." Hands, gentle but firm pulled at him, supporting him but Dean struggled against the hurt and humiliation. He didn't want help, except that he did; the weakness that had affected the muscles in his arms seemed to have infected the rest of his body making it useless and the pain kept coming and coming with every little jolt.

Pillows were plumped, sheets straightened and Dean found himself settled comfortably back onto the bed covers pulled up.

"There," the rotund orderly grinned, "…now you can enjoy your dinner," he pushed the table to within Dean's reach. "Anything else?" he looked up expectantly but Dean, cheeks still flamed red, refused to meet his eye. Goddamn it why'd the guy have to be so nice about it when all Dean wanted to do was bitch.

"No…thanks, I'm fine." He managed a mumble and when he did raise his head to his relief the man had gone. His gaze wandered to the plate. It cheered him a little as his stomach grumbled in appreciation of what was about to enter it but on lifting the opaque dome cover his heart sank. Neatly in the centre of the white expanse of plate was laid a round of jell-o, okay not green but bright red and still f**cking jell-o.

Dean pushed the table away in disgust wondering how anyone could recover from anything eating that slop. Sighing he leant back onto the now supportive softness behind him. Hospitals were a necessary evil to a hunter and this one had proved to be very efficient but that didn't mean Dean felt comfortable or easy at being confined to his bed. His eyes closed and fleetingly as the lassitude crept up on him he wondered again, with a prick of concern, where Sam was.

XXxxxxxxxx

Waiting impatiently for the elevator Sam adjusted the bag on his lap. The warmth seeping through the paper and his thin scrubs kept burning his thigh. It had taken him far longer than he'd thought to complete his errand and he'd also overestimated his fitness.

He shifted his chair closer to the metal doors in anticipation of them opening, gripping the cool wheel rim with sore fingers. He'd only propelled the thing down to the front entrance and he was beginning to appreciate how much their trek into the wild had taken out of his body as his muscles throbbed with overexertion.

The doctor had told him only that morning that it would probably take a couple of months for him to regain his strength but Sam had still been determined, even though he was blatantly flouting hospital rules, get this gift for Dean.

The external automatic doors swished open allowing the breeze to brush into the foyer. Sam's sensitive new skin prickled and he shuddered but at that moment the elevator light blinked on and the doors opened with a ping.

Again Sam switched the bag to his other leg then wheeled himself into the small space, turned and leant forward pressing the fifth button up. Glancing at his watch he waited as the elevator sped silently upwards before coming to a halt with a slight jolt. It was a little after one thirty and Sam hoped that Dean wouldn't be creating a fuss because he'd not appeared.

Despite his collapsed lung and other injuries his brother was proving to be a difficult patient. Dean had never liked being pinned down to one place so to be confined to bed for three days with the prospect of at least another two weeks to come had not gone down well. He'd practically yelled at the Doctor but she had merely waited for him to finish before hanging up the clipboard and exiting with a "See you tomorrow," leaving Sam to bear the brunt of Dean's angry frustration.

Several times Dean had tried to get out of bed but the pain had been too much and he'd collapsed back gasping and cursing. Sam knew that his brother had called Bobby because he'd only just managed to give the grizzled hunter the heads up and before Dean was on the other line.

There was no shouting as Sam propelled himself along the corridor, he wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. He bumped the door open and stopped, smiling to himself. Dean was asleep nestled in a pile of pillows, mouth open, snoring slightly a perfect picture of peace. It seemed a shame to wake him but Sam knew that his brother wouldn't mind when he saw that Sam was bearing gifts.

"Dean…Dean…"

"Mmm," Dean's eyes blinked open, "S'mmy? Then more awake. "Where the hell have you been?"

Sam grinned. "Playing Ninja."

"What?"

In answer Sam dumped the warm bag onto his brother's lap. Dean peered at it suspiciously but then his face lit up. "You didn't."

"I did."

Ripping the bag open Dean pulled out and unwrapped …..a deluxe double cheese burger. The grin that spread across his brother's face, made all Sam's efforts worthwhile. Dean was a pig in clover, a six year old in a sweet factory and a jackpot winner all rolled into one. Sam watched indulgently as Dean took a bite and savoured the mouthful, chewing slowly.

"Sam…"

Dean's voice was muffled through burger but Sam still managed to decipher his sibling's words.

"…did I ever tell you that you were the best brother ever."

XXxxxxxxxx

Epilogue

Dean sat on the porch the blanket across his knees keeping him warm enough

in the evening's cooling breeze. Sam lay two feet away dozing on the old sofa, which Bobby had dragged out onto the decking. The elder hunter had said it was so they could get some fresh air but Dean suspected that their friend wanted some space.

The two Winchesters had been 'visiting' now for two weeks and although both were feeling much better they still tired very quickly, Sam's feet still needed dressing every day and Dean couldn't walk more than three yards without getting out of breath.

The hospital had been very reluctant to release him or Sam but Bobby had turned up a week and a half after Dean's surgery, hair slicked back, in a suit and sweet-talked the consultant that he was a model citizen and a veteran with medical expertise. All of which was true but probably not in the way the hospital authorities would have understood if he'd had to explain further.

The screen door slammed and footsteps thudded round the corner bringing the said veteran into view, meds in one hand and three beers in the other.

"Sam…" Dean reached out and lightly smacked his brother awake. "Nurse Rachet..."

Sam sluggishly came round, blinking blindly until he remembered where he was.

"Oh hey Bobby."

Grunting Bobby handed out the pills, then the beers and perched on the arm of the sofa as Sam pushed himself up to sitting. Dean smiled as much to himself as to the others took his pills with a swig of beer and settled back letting his eyes wander once again with much satisfaction over the small pile of ash in the front yard…..

… all that was left of Sam's backpack.

THE END.


End file.
